Dust

By the seaside
from a ageing tree
hangs a purple light
under which the dead
suture the sea with the sky
when the earth sleeps,
They walk along the ocean
talking about saloons where
these lights are sold
with poisonous tails
for nothing more than
this poem's price...

Fall

Hope has survived
wiping wires from outside

on my chest

It beats on the inside

like swollen feathers

of a crow who waits

under blinking lamps

for the last drops
to trickle to my feet..

The changing sounds

of the rain slipping over the piano

make faces,standing in the doorway

where i burnt candles

to the floor

last night,searching

for pieces of glass

you dragged outside

with your eyes....

From the underground

What do you know about loneliness?

No more than the widow who walks down aisle's
with men she doesn't know
About as much as the ocean
hungers for calm

As much as the man
who makes paper towels
out of the morning news.
I live with loneliness
as if the corners were my arms
They cut me into identical pieces
over metal boards that make roofs
for you to drown in whatever you do under them
Everytime you walk over my spine
the sound of my bones breaking
is like the words my mother fumbles
singing lullabies in unused phone booths..

Shut,picture and brown

The opus of a poet
circles dead trees
far from which clouds
weep above the ocean
his lasting words,
Birds of day sing all night
after parachuting with fresh wombs
of his love,
They shudder when windows light up
in the middle of the night
on the street,called home

The roof paints on my heart

Wooden birds leap
across corners in my room
Hanging by the neck of
faces i gave birth to,
I chase them with  
matchsticks ablaze
like the hands of little children
decorating coffins
in my backyard,


Death sleeps beside
like an old friend
Waiting for me
to put my arms around

As i'm known from love

in the streets waiting for the worded wind
Your spangles behind my eye
Your brown mowed jeans
pierce my ears like gleaming trains
weaving music on the tracks
You move like a slow knife
leaving my heart

On the pavements,there are roses
Crushed like my pockets on the inside
I would buy love for you,if love were money
My penniless pants jingle with
the tic tac toeing of your sandals
I've never been down the corner
you head towards,and i never want to come back
empty hearted so i can count words
that didn't cost me anything
but this poem

From off the green

Smoke from a scooter's

modern flute,like soiled rain

runs through my hair,

They fall one by one

like bottles in a bar

Lets sleep on a child's 

shoulder tonight,

For the rest will work