You, my creation, my art,
you every throb...

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

I have seen you in darkness
like a moth that was going towards the fire...

You burned me with this winter in your heart
I am truly being burned...

Let me embrace your pains
you, my brothers and sisters...

Tick-tuck, tick-tuck she tiptoe walked
towards my door...

When a poet chants
a songster is ensnared...

When one cannot write
It is not writers block...

Blood are tender,
though the fangs of thorns are made of stainless...

Look
how inflated I am...

Our expanding
only circles to reflect in the given radius...

London
caressing the bruised pelt of a perpetual wisdom...