Poetry collection

 

 

...Let him who gives me a shadow not hold me.
You know the breadth of a star
is not equal to the embrace of the ray.

Let me go, blue holy light,
my shadow is in torment on the black earth.
Am I drunk, or is my road drunk?

The snow flows, the earth is white and black.
The word ‘I’ is a wanderer like I,
you are eternal as an icy, cracked puddle.

Did we trip over our shadow
or did the mirage melt in the icy pupil —
a roof, holding up a lamp, when the house moved.