Pleasure is the danger of art,
Its culmunation often mischannelled.

To lose oneself in art is pleasure
But therein lies its frightening danger —
To lose oneself and never come back.

the mind is its own beautiful prisoner.
Mind looked long at the sticky moon
opening in dusk her new wings

then decently hanged himself,one afternoon.

The last thing he saw was you
naked amid unnaked things,

your flesh,a succinct wandlike animal,
a little strolling with the futile purr
of blood;your *** squeaked like a billiard-cue
chalking itself,as not to make an error,
with twists spontaneously methodical.
He suddenly tasted worms windows and roses

he laughed,and closed his eyes as a girl closes
her left hand upon a mirror.

Having slept, the cat gets up,
yawns, goes out
to make love.

These sea slugs,
they just don't seem
Japanese.

Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!

The pheasant cries
as if it just noticed
the mountain.

A quiver, a leap
The world shivers.Dust
Is this going to change, when will springtime come?
I await the silence

I breath in the beauty of a misguided , disguised peacefullness.
There is so much hope in a dandelion. Oswestry.

You tell me there is faith in the stars
I say the plantery motions can never dictate me.
Silence falls like the rain

I will come again
Call me father

My thoughts are running wild
but they cannot go anywhere
because those fishermen have spread their nets
all over my mind
catching them
roasting them on fire
and curing them in salt
for their long winters
and it's too late when they discover
they are feasting on poisonous thoughts

Don't let the sun go down
Don't let it go down in your heart
Don't wait for the light to go out
Keep the light shining
Keep it shining in your soul
So that when night comes
The light in your heart
Will shine the way