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In my dreams of this city I am always lost.

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Writing poetry is a state of free float

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But my dreaming self refuses to be consoled. It continues to wander, aimless, homeless, alone. It cannot be convinced of its safety by any evidence dr...more

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Here the children have a custom. After the celebration of evil they take those vacant heads that shone once with such anguish and glee and throw them ...more

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A truth should exist,it should not be usedlike this. If I love youis that a fact or a weapon?

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There is the staircase,there is the sun.There is the kitchen,the plate with toast and strawberry jam,your subterfuge,your ordinary mirage.You stand re...more

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You fit into melike a hook into an eyea fish hookan open eye

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UPYou wake up filled with dread.There seems no reason for it.Morning light sifts through the window,there is birdsong,you can't get out of bed.It's so...more

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We ate the birds. We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths, and so we ate them. We wanted their f...more

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At some indeterminate point in their life cycles, they cause themselves to be placed in artificial stone or wooden cocoons, or chrysalises. They have ...more

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By now you must have guessed: I come from another planet. But I will never say to you, Take me to your leaders. Even I - unused to your ways though I ...more

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Though I knew how this failure would hurt you, I had to fold like a grey moth and let go.You could not believe I was more than your echo.

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A place with no handholds,no landmarks,no past at all:That would have been too much like dying

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I planned my death carefully, unlike my life, which meandered along from one thing to another, despite my feeble attempts to control it.

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He would have died soon, but more painfully. Anyway, it was Urban Bloodshed Limitation. First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your o...more