for voyages


Descend aloud
into the art
of the thing,
before words with
enormous arms
bind us to awful
regions of totality

be unique
alone afraid
as the shiver of
twig, partly
shaded by
the inexact locus
of the clouds

rest in the dominion
of a figure,
aslant and radiant
like a candle
in its own silent

adduce nothing
and the inner light
makes a thorn
to thunder upon
the dark innocence
of sensation

look below
as the summits
know little of
our wounds we
use as vehicles
for voyages that take
place behind
the language of order.


Contemporary Poetry



Today, I’m convinced
that the hard edge
of matter
is nothing but a
soft pillow
of cloud,

that I’ve never seen the earth

because I’ve made nothing
but sculptures of smoke
with the shadows of
the mind.

Today, I might shrink
to a piece of petal
and wait for a flood of light
to drag my sight toward perfume
and thaw my flesh
to dew.

I’ve never visited the world,
standing drunk here between
two columns of dream.

Today, I could have erased
memory with its tail of tale,
today I see there’s nothing
in space

not even the pulse
of silence’s throbbing slumber.


Contemporary Poetry

spiral measures



I am going to die.

But there are days
when flesh titillates
and joins the circus
of the sinews

and there’s ecstasy
in the flesh
as if it were loaves
of bread soaked
in froths of bliss

and the moment’s trapeze
is a vehicle or an aspect
of levitation

and neighbors witness
a whiff of shadow
swirling in dimly lit

and forget noon
dawn or wood
head or heart

being here
in physical perpetuity
in whirlpools of hairs
and hairs and hairs
and bones

towards a dizzy

until I become
a mote of sound

that has permeated
the intermediary air.

Contemporary Poetry



When nothing had yet
lured electron.

Before beginnings,
when totality
was numb and coiled
like a tongue.

The buds
a patch of permanence.

Illumine the solace
when the folds of eternity
were not yet


was a droplet deep
of dense darkness.

Then a slither of light scarred the night.

A new hunger
clung to the breast
of heaven
it began to bleed
a timeless light.

Outpouring curls of colors.

The clouds
the mud
and the appearance
swathed in shadows
& painful pulse.

Contemporary Poetry

prelude to a philosophy of meaninglessness


I want to write
clear and distinct ideas
expressing how life
is a short sojourn
in an unclear and
indistinct domain

that my philosophy
become the instant
when words ricochet off
the build of reality

to expose the futility
of the understanding
and dilate the aperture
through which silence

I want to make sure
that the veracity
of my principles
is unverifiable

that the meaning
of my verse
emerges as
a blur of music

I want to leave
the cloud of phenomena
to become a single
dab of mist
throbbing in the
chaotic extent.



Contemporary Poetry

The ant feeling

I have the hands of a dictator.
Thoughts of a circle
and a pretty bloated lower lip.
I wake up some days thinking
how many galaxies are needed
for this life to be indubitably
I look at the mirror,
those eyes like clouded enigmas.
And then come the words,
like heavy storms of smoke.
If the sky were glass to break;
but I settle for grunge.
While to most life is a gulf,
to me
the world is a knife
two parallel lines
that meet at the horizon
to stab me right
in the middle
of my unseen heart.




Nihilistic Poetry

A morbid brush

death car

Faceless driver.
I keep replaying,
the violent curve –
my unlighted bicycle.
Pump ; drugged with
bone crack pain coward
agonize no thoughts. I keep
replaying the scene,
the simple magnet of events.
I keep coloring the blood
against the asphalt,
drawing the feeling of crushed bone.
No thoughts and my eyes
on charcoal night.

To have died, doesn’t
seem so tragic now.
Death – finally!
Under the numinous
full moon!

Nihilistic Poetry

of love


i know
that your face
shining like a fog
is nothing
but emptiness

that your hand
sliding down
past my navel
grabs a cock
which is shapeless

i accept
the vows
and promises
of love
in a universe
of decay

i know
my love
you are a flutter
in the vast chain of being
and i have kissed
the fleeting
mystery of a lip

i comprehend
our nudity
as a mirage
and that words
coil around us
like fumes of legend

like a sun and fate
share a millennium
of spontaneity

i know
your face
is but a passage
an instrument
for the invisible
to be formulated

let’s rub
the falsity of our skins
against the
improbability of our bliss




21st century poetry

of riddles

Hunger of blue void
the mirror of the sky
like a desk where I write
the big numbers of silence –
light blue song I imagine
traveling the fields of
my childhood, was
there a wrong window
in the house, an opposite
shadow to the sun?
Hunger blue beginning.
I’m ready to wrap the folds
of the blue world around me
and sleep, like an inebriated god,
through the eternities and the distances
of the missing answer.

Nihilistic Poetry