poem20artgallery

"…with love in his eyes, he allows them to gaze at a reflection of your body and soul whose accusing presence overwhelms his loving eyelidless eyes wide shut…" A tragic study of unyielding devotion, late arrivals, and the heavy gaze of memory.

"…I glance at the partially shrouded sky over the vast urban sprawl where the specter of a silvery-scarlet moon overwhelms the heavens…" A melancholy reflection on isolated skies, private yearning, and the crushing quiet of waiting in vain.

"…another vision, another illusion in which an injected moon descended toward me, overwhelming my senses…" A vivid, dreamlike journey through urban sprawl, bloodlines, and surrender to the unseen currents of the city.

"The rain has ceased late in the afternoon, the surroundings have muted, the world around is still..." A contemplative meditation on perception, fleeting encounters, and the quiet distortion of memory reflected in rain-soaked ground.

"I dare not forget the ruin impossible to bury in the depths of an abandoned mirror cast into our lives..." A haunting exploration of emotional trauma, obsessive memory, and the sharp edges of past devotion.

"As you can see, I have come here at last, to lower his eyelids over the eyes that he only had for me..." A reflective poem about the lingering echoes of love, unspoken connection, and the finality of a long-awaited reunion.

"It is not the book itself, which is a front, a cover, nor is it its pages... It is the images signed by them that give us the stage on which the characters infiltrate us..." A provocative piece examining literary illusion, historical memory, and the ghostly reach of fiction.

"Tonight we endeavor to infiltrate that world, even if it is only to barely graze with the tips of our fingers the contours of those depositories of our faces..." A haunting poetic reflection on searching the depths of identity from the edge of eternal sleep.

 "I am the slain Minotaur. You are—knife in hand—penetrating the darkened corridor... The doors that shut behind us are impenetrable. Only a dream will open them shut." A melancholic reflection on memory, heartbreak, and finality.

"I close my eyes to continue registering the manifestation of things in spite of the impending genocides... At this point I close my eyes because I want to die in peace." A poignant reflection on sorrow, memory, and lingering love.

"I wonder if its provenance is Faubourg Saint-Honoré, Fifth Avenue, or Rodeo Drive. I really like the dangling straps and little chrome buckles..." A dark, witty poem contrasting high-fashion pretension with restraint and institutional walls.

"I’m afraid my death will make me stop loving you... I wonder, though, what you will do when you die, if you will at least deign to look at or kiss my inert lips like you did when you came, one day too late, to shut my eyelidless eyes..." A haunting exploration of love, mortality, and irreversible parting.