Suture up your wounds
for the pain to stop feeding from your neglect...

Each figure is silence
shrivelled...

To My Uncle
Time stopped...

Whatever to others we do,
whether in the scale of “so many” or a...

I dream of you
in jazz...

I cannot identify with these objects any longer.
They are not what my past indicated them to be...

All in silver and grey,
in the dying bed...

Looking into the paradox
of distance and destination...

If you crucify him again,
what will be your excuse...

There are transparent fossils,
the fossils of voices...

Beauty is the attribute of harmony and colours,
justness of the portions and equality...

Four shadows in light,
triads fold to squares in dusk...