Purple dragonfly
resting on a yellow bloom...

The sky is brimming
with stars when our eyes are freed...

Flare of candlelight,
briefly cuts the velvet night...

Wolves bare silver fangs,
thorn-stems of the crescent moon...

I watched the waves of days,
laden with rue and sorrow...

Oh lovely one, oh lovely one,
so gentle...

The nightingale loves the rose,
but its love is fragile...

In the throat of an hourglass,
all tilts, all turns...

The Tragic Death of My Quail:
Hey...

Why is the exact never attained,
yet ceaselessly sought...

Hand and guitar,
concave and convex...

The supermarket,
though filled with goods...