At the dance of the naked moon
a single leaf quivers
I go into trance.
A fetus in womb turns.
The first appearance
of the magnitude:
a sad cloud leans on the horizon.
Hostility of the summer
is melting in blue sky.
It will never end.
The eternal soft music of silk
the death had been hunting.
I will call for a song-
I need a transcendental soul
to sing an elegy for my unborn revolution.
Give me a hand,
a presence, a touch.
My fading blanket of stars.
at the golden gate
was not a voyage
to total emptiness.
When the assault comes
I confront the sad poems
stained by blood.
A solitude of corners
is better than arrogant curves.
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
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