Complete collection

Poems

4 poems — on nature, memory, garden, and the quiet moments of everyday life.

The light goes from the room, leaving it dark — only the windows keep the light.

In this the hot breath of black iron holes, of a smallpox summer — I found you, coconut water, milk and flowing.

Down at the crematorium there is a grey metal box — where I burnt my father, there the torch is transferred.

Foot weary, he had come to the mountains — and at night the old monk would ring a bell he must follow to the uttermost.