Suzerain

This silence
As great as the age of an ocean
Now brim my teacup
And I; a droplet of delusion
Aimless upon the surface of ceaseless eternity,
Dare ask for a refill

Dewdrops in the Ocean

I close my eyes
And the dewdrops upon my palate
Rise, like an ocean left unattended
On hot stove
Left to seethe and boil
Fold and uncoil;
Echoing towards an inconsequential eternity
Where nothing rhymes
Beneath the repeating waves
Washing themself at the shore
At the feet of a silent, silent kingdom
Rooted in reminiscence
Of a homemade horizon promised
Upon an unpromised path
There the shriveled hearts sprout as mushroom
In an endless cortege
Moving in stillness
Like taste upon the tip of tongue
And snail upon the lips of spine
An ode to the essential
Both the dirt and the divine

Twilight’s Candle

My soul doesn’t shine anymore
Like the star it was before
And though there are those who wish for me
To be found abandoned by the sea
These waves, they won’t let me drown
With my head yet heavy with the crown
And heartless people crowding the shore
Chanting: mon amour, mon amour, mon amour…

Iris

Do not let me die
In a hall with white walls
Near windows overlooking
The world’s asylum
Filled with paper praying people
Watering themselves
Towards an early spring

Pulp

I dream of dry oceans
And suckling on burnt milk
From the seeds long sowed
Upon the shores of homeless towns
Waiting to flower
Once more
At the sunrise

Luminaries

I lean against the firmament
A droplet of escaped life
Weaned from the threshold
Crowded with corpses:
Waiting to enroll and muse within their scholastic attire
The drama that began with naked men
Wandering across blue deserts
Looking for stars
Falling, from the firmament.