Up these stairs of guilt

The crab-faced lion ascends

With a goat’s gait

Jumping over shadows,

Lo! In conquest of poise




In Spring I adorn.
Many things due to come.
Find joy – such I have sworn.
A bud of the plum.

Endless it is no more;
Insects’ cry to the stars.
To drift was Summer’s core.
The rain will leave scars.

My floors are twisting.
There’s banging on the wall.
It’s three in the morning.
Some ghost came in Fall…

I sit on the bed.
Winter’s cold is a lake.
Snow sinks down to my head.
Through silence I wake.




Always shall

Half a heart in ideals

Thine be, hopeless!

For rebellion is still

A hero’s privilege




Mimicking bubbles,

Cast-off sentiments set

Afloat heart’s sorrow,

Surface to modernité,

And burst into desire


The Actor


the actor — ever to withhold true hues,

akin still streams beneath a land of blues,

when, over seas of red, this walking cloud

raises courage; becoming someone’s muse




sun after storm, playing tag

I cower, but why feel shame?

lit puddles, always disturbed,

reflect change — again, again