Sometimes those we love break us to bind us whole within the transition.

The seed of our love will always cube within the wonder of infinite.

In the boundaryless forests, there’re dancers of nude.Yet in the confines of pasture, there’s promise of food.On which is your side?Ô, but tarry and bide,ere you decide,in both do confide.

I drift like a cloud,Across these venerable eastern lands,A journey of unfathomable distances,An endless scroll of experiences…Lady Zhejiang here we must part,For the next province awaits my embrace.Sad wanderer, once you conquer the East,Where do...

There is bad in all good authors: what a pity the converse isn’t true!

I have been so very, very fortunate in my life. I’ve met or been in contact with several of my childhood heroes. I’ve interacted with people all over this planet, and even though I couldn’t...

Les hibouxSous les ifs noirs qui les abritent,Les hiboux se tiennent rangés,Ainsi que des dieux étrangers,Dardant leur oeil rouge. Ils méditent.Sans remuer ils se tiendrontJusqu’à l’heure mélancoliqueOù, poussant le soleil oblique,Les ténèbres s’établiront.Leur attitude au...

Wherever I go, I run into myself.

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

My heart’s scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.

‘The sky cast wet buckets of dreams and desires, the roots took shape, and the leaves tangled as one.

AnchorIt took twenty horses to lug methrough the shipyardon the back of a cartlike a fifteen-and-a-half tonpantomime dame.My spitting image was weighedon the other side of the bow:two fat men in drag; we felt as...

I love being able to see an un-written future.

Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that’s how a book of poems is made, my friend

Where Do You Show Up to Share What You Have to Offer?When You Love What You Do-You Share It Daily

Every broken piece of me fell on every broken piece of you and when I took the missing parts, like the emptiness of me I saw the emptiness of you and I poured my half...

Magic is when you live your life the way you didn’t picture it and leave nothing behind.

Htinya sekarang seperti benda rapuh.Aku tak tahu seberapa retakatau hancur di dalam sana,Aku hanya bisa menerka-nerka dari siniDari tempatkuAku tak tahu apakah ia ingin kurengkuh atau kupelukAtau hanya sekadar kulihat dan ku dengar dari siniDari...

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don’t know, if you will ever come...

for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.

So, the world happens twice–once what we see it as;second it legends itselfdeep, the way it is.

Success”If you want a thing bad enoughTo go out and fight for it,Work day and night for it,Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for itIf only desire of itMakes you quite...

And this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.

Paris at NightTrois allumettes une à une allumées dans la nuitLa première pour voir ton visage tout entierLa seconde pour voir tes yeuxLa dernière pour voir ta boucheEt l’obscurité tout entière pour me rappeler tout...

Hemingway is overrated,Twain is even more lost at sea,And all truths point to the mouth of a woman,Where both her whispers and her screams,Are born.Pour another glass, Beer, wine, whiskey,I don’t care,So long as its...

Don’t ask me what it means; ask me what it felt.

Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, brown glass, green. They fell to the lawn and I’d feel serene. Adam was king to my stilted queen.

Les roses de SaadiJ’ai voulu ce matin te rapporter des roses ;Mais j’en avais tant pris dans mes ceintures closesQue les noeuds trop serrés n’ont pu les contenir.Les noeuds ont éclaté. Les roses envoléesDans le...

Books have power to bring you glory or doom, it all depends on perception.

But dear, don’t be afraid of love it’s only magic.

The fear of loving a dog, is knowing one day they’ll be gone and you could never find eyes that express all that you feel.

What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? Oh, poems, no less! Poems, everybody!

Oh captain my captain

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...

Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?

You leave behind your fine poems.You leave behind your beautiful flowers. And the earth that was only leant to you. You ascend into the Light, O Quechomitl, you leave behind the flowers and the singing...

I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten,Eternal Wisdom can never die …

Pause, why won’t you let a woman love you?

If thou must love me, let it be for noughtExcept for love’s sake only. Do not say’I love her for her smile … her look … her wayOf speaking gently, … for a trick of...

True poetry is embarrassing.

The townspeople took the prince for deadWhen he never returned with the dragon’s headWhen with her, he stayedShe thought he’d be too afraidBut he loved her too much instead.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

It lies here deep in the heart, the small chest of painSharp words like daggers placed it hereTo fill with hurtIn filling it grew heavy and drug me downFor to not feel is not to...

To love is to soar in the wild unexpectedly.

Use love as the only instrument to question the world around you.

A short poem from my book:PerspectiveOf coursethere is a hellshe saidand it hasan observation deck;so I maystand and waveto all those kindsouls belowwho warned meI would go there.

If I wasn’t writing poems I’d be washing my hands all the time.

we are all like poems. some of us rhyme. some don’t. some are Pulitzer prizessome are just scribblesand yet, we all possessa special kind of beautythat can either heal or cut to the boneone that...

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged,...