Scorn and solitude

Scorn and solitude,
and the great Tree of Anger,
now reign in this wasteland
because of all of you,
malignant deity.
And because of you,
who beheaded every flower
was left
that had grown on me.


Thirty years

Thirty years ago
In May,
Two kids who were sad.
You gave me your hand.

Gently fallen

Beautiful bright

Young leaf,

Lonely, gently

Fallen in spring, not

Your season to fall.

Oh my sweet bright

Young leaf,

Please, rest

In your unforgotten


The trigger

Dull sound of distant


Of dragonflies and threshes,

Evokes the desire of the green door

Of the sea and of your light


In dim light. 

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