to the man who chased after eternity –
foolishly, i follow in your footsteps...

your name is scarred tissue
on my tongue; your incendiary...

with sardonic air, we bloom tulips and roses
on our tongues, perfuming every word to...

we cross the meadow, astonished
in part by the beauty of it. the river...

colliding ideologies
contradict the two of us...

Honeyed words pour out in a continuous
stream onto your collar bones, the horizon...

and then, you –
picturesque, plaited hair unfurled into loose...

a little past midnight, and i'm spilling again -
in a drunken stupor, and i'm spilling all the...

where the sun begins,
and you end...

…the stand mixer broke a while back, so
we resort to kneading the dough by hand...

dawn is lit by the candle in your heart;
a mango-yellow stains the sky, and i...

cruelest fate – we dance our waltz,
alternating the lead and the other...