“Self-conjured, a stranger with the thirsty / tongue of an injured wolf lapping // at the pink wounds of my winter’s own two / ears, lone familiar longing…”

“Bearded like a philosopher / taking up this pen to scribe a / love written in fragments by my // predecessors, tracing in breath / on water with the…”

“Not yours, to you I owe no birth, / upon a blossoming throne adorned with a breath / of pearls garlanding a mouth whose / lips are dusted…”

“Brown and awful, caramel chars / the edge of the orchid’s wilting petal, // so called from the Greek / for testicle, a biker’s lighter’s fluid ignites // pastel…”

“Time has no borders, sees everything, / ignores nothing, like a spider / in a web of books all volumes are from / the same library, memory // adds…”