i used to write in a different language when i fall into the mood of detachment or dislocation.
love bravely enclosed at the closing
hour of dove
enough we know
naively phrasing
an enclosed house, the snow
in shadow pattern
yes on the go
my beloved, take the montain
of south where
loves are fair
doves in pair
we surely know enough
with power and ignrance
at the closing hour
we, my beloved, are
the endosed house
doubtless
elas the rest
of you
at the closing hour
must choose
between a powerful dove
and an ignornat love
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the silencer
may i rise the flowers and flame
may i set about then and ask if ever
reboot your affairs vanishing
this year i dare to burn
but would you simply sit still
or rather run to the front
blazing out the stars and hills
these hills of togetherness
those stars of matter of facts
blowing and flowing are your words
from the fireworks that flirt
though sometimes they do hurt
the crazy darkness of heart
teasing the memories to part
if we fold the arts to agree
but we shall not
oh shall we agree
to break away from darting
dots that predict to form
the poetry of sea
oh we shall not
believe me dear
let us sing and reach out
to silence the god
that shouts