To S. imagining all the scars on my body – those porcelain cracks you turned me into never healed, just forgotten by one of the most humiliating gestures I have ever made – the truth I will take to the grave we — as accomplices in crime never trusted each other — figuratively fugitives I can read you like…

A poem I can see a dimly lit light curled up on my balcony glass walls reflecting all the shadows of the previous existence muted with one gesture of contempt and exposing the lie apparent as black ink on white paper for the certainty of recognition of each forged figure I’ve seen it all siblings fighting with each other father against his own child and the mother…

In the garden — The Girl didn’t realise how she got here, but she could clearly recall that she had entered this place alone and someone had closed the door behind her. There seemed to exist an extensive garden with as many fruit trees and shrubs as she could imagine. She could easily recognise…

In the lens of their world A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is…

a poem when the chieftains became landlords and the clansmen became tenants I became a bullet bounced back and forth in your multi-skilled hands requiring fun and games every time I was around to hurl all the impurities at me without a doubt longing for ideology going on for ages as if general Franco was still alive and dared to invade England implementing…

a poem I did all of this so you don’t have to sit alone abandoned by all I wanted to warn you about the world around you now it’s too late they say, like father, like son god knows how much I wanted to avoid this cliché tightening its grip on your innocence…

Widow’s dance with first love and demons I sit alone in my vast house After you left me last fall It was sudden, no one could have foreseen And yet I still reminisce Our love at first sight Across the room at the whereabouts Of a country club Where was the so-called Dance Night I went there alone…

with recitation of poetry included — with everything new and unstable I try to balance on both legs interchangeably with the appearance of some person with the characteristics of a Prince telling stories from the past not knowing where from and to whom dedicated however always reflecting the internal state of mind as if the reality on the surface didn’t mind this strange sudden swing in the old man’s…

for this well is bottomless — there’s no writing through the pain it just doesn’t happen the most serene stillness of the mind or the opposite? stormy surge of the siege breaking my benevolent branches-nerves to the most extreme but empty emotions; then there are no valuable words so, I try to replace them with books, articles, poems to glean as many words as I can so as not…