EgoSumNovus

Red chrysanthemums grown in a box on a windowsill;they are the skirts that bloom beneathyour watchful eyes.There is dirt beneath your fingertipsand dirt beneath your smile, but it isthe chrysanthemums

Words play like children in a street- like sacrificial lambs.Spotless as I claim, spotless as you think-nothing more than that.I string them together, pearls on a necklace that winds and ...

I release balloons into the sky and stare untilthe atmosphere has swallowed them andthey are drowning in the sun.Apple blossoms in the eyes of passer-bysmake them forget about God,make them ...