Surviving the night,
the new blossom has no choice...

After the night,
and after the sight...

Our childhood fades, its dream undone,
and wonder hides from everyone...

The unknown is always
guarded by senseless meaning...

They ascend to judgment
on stilts of sycophancy...

What have we become?
How loud, how long, how lost, how numb...

No one comes to see my garden,
to sit...

O, a head,
the spark...

None may speak above right
For Right is the ultimate of mankind...

What we call personal
is not...

The distance
between stars and seconds...

In the heart of night, I called her name.
In the half-light nightmare of day, I called her...