Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

Will our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?

I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.

And what has become of it, where is that onetime love? Now it is the grave of a bird, a drop of black quartz, a chunk of wood eroded by the rain.

I like on the table, when we're speaking, the light of a bottle of intelligent wine.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.