Oblivious of time
the clocks on the wall
just keep ticking
and busily going
their own
ways

Sharing an umbrella
I suddenly realize the difference between us

Yet bending over to kiss you
give me such joy
as you try to meet me halfway
on tiptoe

A block of marble
and twenty six letters of the alphabet
etch so many young names
onto history

Wandering alone
amid the mass grave
an old woman has at last found
her only child
and with her eyes tightly shut
her trembling fingers now feel
for the mortal wound
on his ice-cold forehead

I've put some
poems
in the icebox

they'll be cold
and sweet
when you get home

Holding his chin
thinking
how to
hold the chin
and watch the computer
do
the thinking

Now that she is middle-aged, my wife
likes to stand before the window
and comb her hair

Her only makeup a trace of cloud
the landscape of a graceful
poised maturity

Before the mirror
he carefully makes himself
a tight knot

to let the hairy hand
of civilization
drag him
on

It makes no difference
your lips kissing my lips
or my lips kissing yours

What important
is that we still have something to say
to each other
and try to say it
well

A bundle of bills
could buy
a flattering
smile
not long ago

now
a bundle of bills
can buy
more than
one flattering
smile

after frittering away the remaining afternoon
I walk up to the window many times
to see if the sky holds any last surprise

As it hangs over my neighbor's roof
the sun seems almost
immortal. Picasso died this morning
I wonder what tunes the three musicians
are going to play
which way the dove
is going to fly

having shown us the world is still
soft and kneadable
the master hands are now withdrawing
I reach out unconsciously
but realizing how childish it must be
I turn my grasping hands to clapping