History is a hermaphrodite with many distinguished lovers. We are neither mysteries nor strangers but the living breath of revelation made flesh by the unrestrained desires of a free and universal love. Universal me. Universal...

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean’s insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune’s vanity.

Thoughts as warm as a silky summer rain, flowing over the edge of my soul’s gentle.not tides returning them along the shoreline to laughing gulls.

My father’s love was always strongMy mother’s glamour lives on and on.Yet still inside I felt alone, for reasones unknow to me.

Ah, me resisto, mas me tienes toda, tú, que nunca serás del todo mío.

Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.

funny”, you know?I feel taller. I like that.I’ve never been away from my shadow forthis long. It had always clung to my feet,parting momentarily for a quick dive intothe swimming pool. But never for fivehours....

Think of it: the worlds in this world.

Evet, gün geliyor bıkıyorum sendenAma İstanbul’dan bıkmak gibi bir şey bu,Git, istersen, cüzam kap bir yerlerden,Görmek istersen, nicedir, tutkunluğumu.

From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your roomAnd made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking upFrom your book, saw...

If I could sum up my poetry in a few well-chosen words, the result might be a poem. Several years ago, when I was asked to say something on this topic, I came up with...

RebukeObstinate regressionbringing untold pathsof deep dark forebodingdepression…

Mon Dieu, la vie est par trop moche.

I’d Drown For YouI opened my heart to youA complete immersionI offered my soul to youA heavenly diversion

THE PRESOCRATIC PROBLEM[all snap flags]Parmenides named his gun The Hot Power of the Stars. His gun was one, uncreated, imperishable, timeless, changeless, perfect, spherical. Spherical was the problem.

It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . .

The grave’s a fine and private place,But none, I think, do there embrace.

Though I play at the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing, but looking, and touching, and loving

Along the field as we came byA year ago, my love and I,The aspen over stile and stoneWas talking to itself alone.’Oh who are these that kiss and pass?A country lover and his lass;Two lovers...

I write to forget the days that broke me into a million nights.

…how it would be nice if, for every sea waiting for us, there would be a river, for us. And someone -a father, a lover, someone- able to take us by the hand and find...

Poetry puts starch in your backbone so you can stand, so you can compose your life.

Do you remember the sight we saw, my soul,that soft summer morninground a turning in the path,the disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones,its legs in the air like a woman in needburning its...

I wanted all thingsTo seem to make some sense,So we could all be happy, yes,Instead of tense.And I made up liesSo that they all fit nice,And I made this sad worldA par-a-dise.

Look upward to himLook to him for everythingLook to him for answersLook to him for a listening ear

One! two! and through and throughThe vorpal blade went snickersnack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back.

If you believe it, it is.

I bargained with Life for a penny,And Life would pay no more, However I begged at eveningWhen I counted my scanty store;For Life is just an employer,He gives you what you ask,But once you have...

the gods seldomgivebut so quicklytake.

begitu sentimentil menemukan sebuah situs jutaan tahun mengingatkan pada kepurbaan pada zaman dimana tuhan masih mengutus nabinabi kepada percakapan musafiraun di tepi pantai yang paling diam pada sebuah malam yang mengenangnya membuatmu luruh ketika kau...

as long as there arehuman beings aboutthere is never going to beany peacefor any individualupon this earth (oranywhere elsethey mightescape to).all you can dois maybe grabten lucky minuteshereor maybe an hourthere.somethingis working toward youright now,...

Sólo un sentido común con imaginación de poeta podría haber sido el inventor de la rueda.

sometimes it’s hard to knowwhat todo.

I don’t want to go on being a root in the dark,vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep,downward, in the soaked guts of the earth,absorbing and thinking, eating each day.

I’m at that place I grew up to leave.

He dormido contigoy al despertar tu bocasalida de tu sueñome dio el sabor de tierra,de agua

the phantom of the man-who-would-understand,the lost brother, the twin —for him did we leave our mothers,deny our sisters, over and over?did we invent him, conjure himover the charring log,nights, late, in the snowbound cabindid we...

Well in case you failed to notice,In case you failed to see,This is my heart bleeding before you,This is me down on my kneesThese foolish games are tearing me apartYour thoughtless words are breaking my...

In death we vanquished enemies,In death, we slew our foes.Blood soaked rage engulfed our blades,When blood lust took its hold.–In death, a darkness troubled one,In death, concealed, undone.Deep in darkness dragons wait,When blood would set...

This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.

Oh, the summer night / HAS A SMILE OF LIGHT / And she sits on a sapphire throne.

Life shows us all colours, some bright and some shades of grey,Some accept with a smile, while some frown in every wayThoughts and memories never end but life does one day.Whole age passes by in...

Romantic haste in drama bringstears and sighs when the hero diesbut the curtain fall is finalwhen in life we take the tragic wayThe sunset too is a glorious thingbut with it ends the day.

…the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere …

The days of the future stand in fornt of usLike a line of candles all alightGolden and warm and lively little candlesThe days that are past are left behind

You had this expression on your face, like you weren’t quite sure you were supposed to be on Earth.

To hide feelings when you are near crying is the secret of dignity.

… paint in blue and black…sometimes gray – the colors of night – occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet …

A word only writes Its night and ridesIts dream.

For a scientist must indeed be freely imaginative and yet skeptical, creative and yet a critic. There is a sense in which he must be free, but another in which his thought must be very...