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...

The horizon is glorious—
unbroken, when your beauty...

We do not need religion;
we have God...

Our countenances—
nothing but impressions...

Veil lifts in twilight—
gypsys dance reddening in...

They barked, “You do not fit, don’t tag along!
Be gone, you beast! Your kind is not our kin...

I shun all stain, all mark of mortal dust,
Except the trace that bears the sign of you...

“In the final analysis,
even love is unreal...

For years,
you made me carry shame...