Everything seems impossible And everything seems possible.

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.

Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

There are countless circles of hell; believers never penetrate the ninth circle.

The aesthetic construct, and nothing else, has taught us to expose ourselves to a non-enslaving experience of rank differences. The work of art is even allowed to ‘tell’ us, those who have run away from...

Say No! Accept the burdens of revenge.

Magic Words””Silly words cause trills because they’re ludicrous and funny.Happy words paint endless smilesand swallow troubles whole.Thoughtful words are thusbecause they make the day feel sunny.But hurtful words are suchthat pierce the heart and weigh...

Through words to the meaning of thoughts with no words.

She cries,I laugh,She becomes numb,I become filled with joy,She slowly crumbles,I feel on top of the world,Yet somehow in the end,Out of the ashes,She rose like a Phoenix,As if nothing had ever touched her

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved HerIf questioning would make us wiseNo eyes would ever gaze in eyes;If all our tale were told in speechNo mouths would wander each to each.Were spirits free...

I rhyme… to see myself, to set the darkness echoing.

GONE TO STATICit sounds better than it is,this business of surviving,making it throughthe wrong placeat the wrong timeand livingto tell.when the talk shows and movie creditswear off, it’s just me and my dumbluck. this morningI...

Funeral BluesStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on...

it’s springand the goat-footedballoonMan whistlesfarandwee

A tired man lay down his headin a dusty room so dim,and for so long his wife did shakeand yell to waken him.Meanwhile his thoughts, his dreams, did stirof sandy, red bullfights,of powder-blasts in the...

And all at once the heavy nightFell from my eyes and I could see, –A drenched and dripping apple-tree,A last long line of silver rain,A sky grown clear and blue again.And as I looked a...

We keep asking where they have gonethose years we remember and wereach for them like hands in the night

non fu mai così tesa la boccache chiude in sé il Tuo nome,straziata dal tormento di non dirti

Better poetry than riches,Better poverty than fortunes.

Voll Blüten steht der Pfirsichbaum nicht jede wächst zur Frucht sie schimmern hell wie Rosenschaum durch Blau und Wolkenflucht. Wie Blüten geh’n Gedanken auf hundert an jedem Tag — lass’ blühen, lass’ dem Ding den...

After all, when a thought takes one’s breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence.

For my sustenance at night,the whole that my hands can gleanfrom the gloom of the oak-gloomed oaks–the herbs and the plenteous fruits…

Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,and I still don’t know which month it was thenor what day it is now.Blurred out linesfrom hangovers to coffeeAnother vagabond lost to love.4am alone and on my way.These are...

Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.

… and I realise the only way to tell the others is through the way my voice can take these broken wordsand turn it into music. Turn it into poetry.And I sing to make myself...

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...

Four billion people on this earthbut my imagination is still the same.It’s bad with large numbers.It’s still taken by particularity.It flits in the dark like a flashlight,illuminating only random faceswhile all the rest go by,never...

The world is full of poetry. ~ The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.

You may be ableto fly to heaven with my love.But for real, my love is onlya cheap wine.Seriously,Only God’s love is the precious wine.And She evengives it to everyone.For free!

The masters of information have forgotten about poetry, where words may have a meaning quite different from what the lexicon says, where the metaphoric spark is always one jump ahead of the decoding function, where...

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

Who will read these poems when the people are gone?

I am a convinced believer that nothing is “as it is”, but it is something that “can become”, or we can make out of, if we put faith in our inner resources and feelings to...

It’s 8a.m. and time to restIt’s 10a.m. and time to relaxIt’s noon and time for reposeIt’s 3p.m. and time for shut-eyeIt’s 6p.m. and time for siestaIt’s 9p.m. and time to slumberIt’s midnight and time to...

But the seawhich no one tendsis also a garden

Love After LoveThe time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat....

The Listeners’Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,Knocking on the moonlit door;And his horse in the silence champed the grassesOf the forest’s ferny floor.And a bird flew up out of the turret,Above the Traveller’s head:And...

The red washingdown the bathtubcan’t change the color of the seaat all.

Its snaky acids kiss.It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.

Love is the poetry of the senses!

Expansion (both far and wide) is the order of the day

I could have been 23 next July I gambled on what mattered most, the dice were cast. I lost.

I will try to disappoint youbetter than anyone else has.

To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.

False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu! Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.

LOCKING HORNSSome are afraid to try new things,To take a simple risk,Limiting what they might accomplish,Limiting what they might wish.I’m not afraid to try new things,To take a little risk,For I believe that we’ve only...

No man was ever yet a great poet, without at the same time being a profound philosopher.

…callamos los volcanes florecidos!