“Lust is an angel whose halo remains after his shadow / vanishes, licked like a pillar of salt until he melts / like wax into vastness, a…”

“Focused thought fixes the volatile, stitches the gross into something / more subtle, the way the devil himself transfixes with a / single glimpse and a smile…”

“If this isn’t hell, then it’s a reason for it to exist, / fifteen syllables in and I haven’t even reached the first circle— / every repetition…”

“Scatter from the watchtowers the inconsolable grief of those lonely / soldiers, those solitary hunters, who seek in the embrace of / strangers their scrutiny escapes, whose…”

“Seeds of thought glistening on the back of a whispering / river which had caught the germ of my idea, your / tongue was an inspiration then…”