Gushing Prayer

There definitely is a time to part.
a couple of times as well.
The End.
I’ve experimented with.
and linked arms with him.
and bear the child.

Suicide by taking 150 Brovarin pills
When your stomach is empty,
Becoming a mother…
and cheating even more.
sufficiently with their bodies.
and hanging himself.

What did your body feel?
were more… much more beautiful.
evening in June.
It’s fine to be not happy.
Did you really believe
anything from each other,

you will have forgotten my name
Father, Mother,
sentiment or dream
Start right away.
My body knows that.
It’s perhaps the same after all.

in the bottom of her heart.
made only for the night.
my pussy touched the corner of the table
the unmoveable truth
middle-aged man.
Do it for real to see

the eroticism of youth.
I love the peaceful feeling
about alone.
When I touched it with my hand
gentle, girlish and beautiful way.

Suicide by jumping into the sea.
and become ruined by the rain.
I felt a womanly sensation.
seventeen said farewell to this world,
and the soul wasn’t rescued.
your poem collection will

When morning comes, my friends,
and said alright.
that I too, have sexuality.
Perhaps to hell.
But a short life is fine.
Watch closely.

An Autumn Afternoon

My selfishness ruined her life.
money problems.
our iron ships…
The green hue of the pines…
a good memory.
Lies, all of it.

It must be kind of lonely
Having a young wife.
with changing colors
Imagine that poor child
It’s so quiet tonight.
my wife passed away

The mountain glows
with his bad mood.
Floating castles guard
You’re prettier on slow days.
Written with the characters
the blue-eyed ones

The setting sun in autumn
A little worn,
Her heart’s set on him.
he’ll sulk forever.
pills to… you know…
on eternity.”

the Land of the Rising Sun…
Let’s not accept any wreaths.
hear the end of it.
Well, we have held hands.
My dress patterns.
for the funeral.


No Regrets For Our Youth

My husband…
is a kind of escape,
Mother, look at my hands.
We remember the sea of flags
on my heart.

Scholars tend
the pretty scenes outside your window.
These last ten years
were crushed beyond repair.
my life would blaze so brightly

I’m afraid of my mother’s tears.
The pattern of the dots
what hardships may befall a man,
This year’s flowers
demanding secrets.

our dreams came to an end
more than anyone else,
Flowers on the knoll
Look at the clouds.
are brutally hard.

I thought you really wanted her
and the heavy burden of responsibility.
what it means to be alive.
are weak, after all.
after dark, like owls.

A family of spies.
and locomotives.
Plants along the river
So is the wind.

she only drew
of my happiness.
the exact opposite of what she feels.
The earth smells so wonderful.
she loves him or anything…

commenced combat operations
in flower arrangement
more meaningful than ever.
things like airplanes
above Mount Yoshida.

It’s so clear and rhythmic.
and blind to the truth,
Think of your mother.
the Bluebird of Happiness.
The thing that weighs most

People dig graves
it’s zeal or devotion,
I’m the shining light
Blazing crimson red.

The Passenger

All the shapes we make.
how much dirt there was.
a wrong trail.
concrete things.
for a night.

…you work with words,
…in the hands
And dust.
about yourself…

A kid throwing stones.
…a different perspective.
most sincere condolences.
as agreed in Geneva.

Pieces of film
A kind of detachment.
including a bad heart.
He began to live in darkness.
in some strange way I do.

Everybody knows
There’s a boat leaving
something about him.
of something.

Jesus Christ.
There is no way to explain it,
People disappear every day.
…fighting a secret war


Promise… You must promise.
you find nasty animals underneath…
Don’t go. My darling boy,
He’ll be the death of me.
the sky on an invisible string.

The twilight’s beautiful.
Speaking softly.
A big cat was basking in the sun
Like your mother says,
That’s dead and buried as of tonight.

Sunken chests,
without pain.
you have stumbled
in the dead languages.
in a bell-shaped skirt

He’s fetching the notebooks.
All that now remains
that there is a meaning
with his penknife.

Do you see that star?
for our years of neglect.
It clung on,
I had misgivings earlier.
Knowing the girl is

All your Sundays are ruined
This heat is trying.
in their funeral clothes…
so that dissolute
It drowned,

I’ve never felt so good as with you.
It dug all its twenty claws
For cheating.
You don’t put your heart
not quite recovered.

I’m so afraid, dearest.
chirping all the while.
in the new lock.
You play beautifully.
to bear that all on your own.

You Love Only Once

divorce me, find me
and God knows where
wantonly destroying…
Both conjugal partners
Like a beautiful dream
unpleasant and dangerous.

Please, be kind to me…
Say something.
Or comb your hair.
spreading stories.

ballet dancers,
In the church
each day passes
to split us…

There’s an empty room.
the wide world,
To you, young man,
No hope to reach

Daddy! Mum!
Let the saboteurs lie,
pleasant could happen.
I promised her a bed only.
let our hearts speak like thunder,
His and yours.

The Painted Bird

Do you remember at least…
all the sins of the world
Eyes of black demons. 
every evening…

Let us pray.
with dirty boots.
and a tooth for a tooth.
of the Father.

Kiss my legs.
for your loving kindness,
Give it a proper stir.
You’ll say nothing.

Our son passed away.
And to yourself as well…
the Son and the Holy Spirit.
There was no other way…

The impure air will soak up the blood.
It will fit you just right.
You’re only half a man

A war orphan.
Jesus took upon himself
He’s poisoned the water.
Remember this.

Padre Padrone

The milk’s frozen.
…deceived by the balmy weather,
and the many noises it brings.
I stood with my mouth open.
in the heart of winter.

Let your voice help you.
…fair… beautiful…
your mouth.
of lambs and lions.
bread and salt.

the wild apples grow.
mother of pearl.
With no blood ties at all…
Our dreams ended
told the truth…

Your mother and I are old….
…the stillness isn’t still,
…without a soul around…
with snakes…

My house has no interest
the fields and the woods.
…languid, lurid…
…infant, babe, baby…
I ordered you…

Dearest father, this is my first letter
It’s black beneath the bark.
for the wedding…
Turn off the lights.

…I found a blackbird’s nest
…our dear motherland.
…that I renew old wounds.
See the mimosa tree
a death bell.

No, I tremble a little too.
the end of January.
…really alone alone…
Put the roots in deeper.
Entire groves wiped out

The Woman Who Ran

A warm room and a warm body
They say it helps with memory.
But our bodies 
drank together.
every day.

and the birdsong.
and so much alcohol.
In the basement theater.
The most beautiful eyes
I thought of you sometimes.
to be loved.

You wanted to say
If your body craves it,
The air is nice and
those eyes, all black,
Sometimes she smokes here.
Everyone has a match somewhere.

I say things I don’t need to say,
that mountain in the window
You’ve been close
a dance performance.
this consciousness,

they’re almost divorced.
Our plot borders on theirs.
It’s great, the mountain.
sleeping with him once.
in the world, among animals.
and architects…

My own husband,
Mostly he does history books,
the total opposite.
He’s gentle-looking,
This is from yesterday.
more envious of you.

even if we break up.
I’m slow by nature.
in ages.
I keep thinking of you.
The design of

Summer at Grandpa’s

That bird catcher,
Certainly… Certainly…
said he was going to the ocean
of uncertainty

The order of the world
Distance grows each day,
the muscle contracts
in the north wind

Families are building rocks
well up through the heart
The noise of the crickets
as pretty as mom

My little bird is dead
didn’t have a wedding gown
Inexpressible feelings
after childbirth

in music
They all swam nakedly
My son’s place
my tears flow

It’s okay.
While we are apart
No mother
rumbles pass my window,

It hurts whenever
for you newlyweds
waiting for me
and pretty forever

sorrow brings tears
We tasted the flavor of a beating
a robbery saying…
All the stuff here belongs

at this moment of parting
all of a sudden
I didn’t understand
wedding ceremonies

The grooms, the brides,
Miles after miles,
My hand is getting sore from writing
Intensifies my longing…”