Your brilliance used to stain
this broken town with orange...

Like the moon,
I don’t have enough lucency...

He was a curator
who speaks softly about...

Again, June came -- uninvited,
shadows glimmer as I think about...

I used to find
your eerie smell on the staircases...

It feels as if I’m walking
on a pathway full of wilted azaleas...

Sunset, I've known you for so long --
a distant mirage, a forgotten song...

You
are my...

In you, I have found dandelions
a multitude of times...