When would this vagabondage end?
Where, my friend...

There are ends to the distances
There are ends to all the roads...

I was tiptoeing on the bough of a bird’s elation...
As much as the bird was clinging onto my finger...

Love brings every side of wounds together
and sew through them with pang...

Sky said to a tree:
How could I invite a protrusion like this...

Buzz!
This was...

It was only for a few moments
but they were infinite...

The entire world
is whitened from within...

A black butterfly
sprinkling the dust of its flutter...

"I love you for all the women I have not known"
(Je t’aime), Paul Eluard...

And this is me:
the Prometheus of poetry...

The black man Jazzes
Inferno tangoes my soul...