It is poetic and lyrical; words that spill forth like cool waters into the dusty dry rock bed of the Soul desiring love. It has been said that I’ve lived in the desert all my...

The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. Daylight, even when the sun is clear...

Incredible. It is just incredible that you can notice something like that when your face is so cold you can’t feel it anymore, and you know perfectly well you are surrounded by death, and the...

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood,neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too...

Why do I find it hard to write the next line?

Waktu berjalan ke Barat di waktu pagi hari matahari mengikutiku di belakang.Aku berjalan mengikuti bayang-bayangku sendiri yang memanjang di depan.Aku dan matahari tidak bertengkar tentang siapa di antara kami yang telah menciptakan bayang-bayang,aku dan bayang-bayang...

How is it that men create such lovely silhouettes, such shadows of the corporeal, capturing things in their most wraith-like moment and yet they are not content with honing such divine talent? Instead, they opt...

… in these new days and in these new pages a philosophical tradition of the spontaneity of speculation kind has been rekindled on the sacred isle of Éire, regardless of its creative custodian never having...

Here I stand on the brink of war again, a citizen of no place, no time, no country but my own . . . and that a land lapped by no sea but blood, bordered...

we not only wish to be pleased, but to be pleased in that particularway in which we have been accustomed to be pleased.

Distance, the dissonance insurmountable,would be not the end,but a magnet.When fingertips kiss,they imprint and cement something,that cannot be disintegrated. Time becomes a phantom,the wind becomes an anchor,and old dreams- blankets of warmth.Lull with me, Lady,there...

Erik: Are you very tired?Christine: Oh, tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead.Erik: Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night.

The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.

Not a week after Annie put her foot in Mrs. Huffmaster’s duff, the Captain upped and laid down the date.

Calico KittyMy calico kittywas painted and primedshe could prowlthe night away ~without spending a dime…

Did no one tell him that pain lives in this sand, dug in and watered with our blood?