The constant buzzer of pain
that ugly fleeting empire
sending out its cavalry
to agitate my nerve tissue, to sabotage
every sound, every smell, every taste
and make me want to be replaced
but fail.
Poetry
Portrait with a little pain
Poetry
The tiny sheepdog was very experienced, but the flock panicked and he died in the wool.
Poetry
The Making of a Misanthrope
They don’t believe me, and they split
One they goes on and on repeating it
The other they says, spitefully, cope!
I despise them, and become a misanthrope
Poetry
Mightless words ! Vehicles of nothing
flapping their wings (in pain), clacking their beaks,
barking to a dying possum,
Poetry
Far away
The cattle is furrier
The mountains are sharper
The birds cry louder
The houses are homelier
And the women
Poetry
Tapas
I told her over tapas
That I have two papas
between olives and anschovis
Oh, well, c’est la vie
Poetry
