The bouquet of flowers
I offered you...

The guardhouse of loneliness—
where the truth of oneself unfolds...

The one Indian
left from all the chiefs is the...

Search for endlessness
in the end of these endless...

Left the cage ajar
to free her but she returned...

Why eat your mother,
when she has given you birth...

Woods are born to burn
They like moth...

I've always walked on your carpet
Yet the carpet is a firework of...

Apple
is gravity...

I wonder if God created you first
or the world...

Oh, little goldfish,
leaning upon your throne of glass...

These forlorn daffodils
talk about the whiteness of your bones...