She shines and soaks in every star
in the blooming night...

God is quiescent.
To sound there must be two things...

Every now and then
a poem coiled in scroll of an acumen...

We
always forget what we...

Life means the amnesia of death,
the amnesia of existence of the death...

Others
Bridge us back to ourselves...

I am a vivacious woman,
side by side of being a...

I shun all stain, all mark of mortal dust,
Except the trace that bears the sign of you...

My brother is a gullible sinner
and I am Jesus...

If I have been in your town
for some times...

To go on going somewhere,
and that’s...

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