clock tower
here the wind
never stops

Between the winter
and spring. Naked tree
with a single leaf.

picking apples
more and more light
into emptiness

did I tell you
more than you could bear?
winter hyacinth

Hiroshima day . . .	
a dandelion clock
at my feet

choice
in all directions
wind

Like a prayer
the dandelion sinks
in the clouds . . .

falling leaf
I’m drawing
my family tree

waxing moon
all the answers
in a lullaby

half-lit Moon in the sky
I invent stories
about the other half

I’ve read it so many times
right now
two uncut pages

a well-to-do region—
even the scarecrow
is elegantly dressed

the elevator is moving up   kids with balloons inside

Death will come in through the vein
expanding in my leg

The seconds of the woodpecker
run faster
than the clock’s.

end of summer —
the three-leaved clovers
are huge

Coming out of the museum	
I’m wearing
an Ionian smile.

slow dance
heartbeat ahead of	
the rhythm

Fog over the river
Only bird song
reveals the hidden islands

The most humane sound—
a flautist
takes a breath

bare vineyards . . .
the hill from the childhood
growing down

like children
lost
in a museum

painting the wall
my son’s first picture
disappears

night train’s far whistle.
I’m in the room
with a book on my knees

Summer evening
A street light
thickens the dusk

Maturing slowly
like winter pears—
first raindrops.

spring wind
the girl let the freckles
fly up

The moon is drawing
silky rustle
from the mulberry tree.	

meteorites
mythical messages
from Atlantis