A tear has an existence of its own—
salted from deep seas...
What wounds you inflict upon this heart—
yet you do not know...
Have you ever drunk
from the goblet of yourself...
An Old Poem
After forty-eight hours...
If loneliness were a flower,
it would bloom—only to fade...
You, only you
not others...
Amor I Iove you
For everything you do for me...
The horizon is glorious—
unbroken, when your beauty...
We do not need religion;
we have God...
I will avoid the aggravation
I will work for a couple hours...
Sunny boy
Is now 19...
Our countenances—
nothing but impressions...