Long Cornice Poems

Dawn's Embrace:
Adret: Dawn paints the face of giants,
Where sunlight warms and shadows dance.
Aiguille: Fingers pierce the azure sky,
A challenge whispered, sharp and high.

Earth's Whispers: 
Dome: Molten heart, now cold and grand,
A silent testament to time's...

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Five miles of neatly spaced suckered palm planted 
Bustling promenade,
Not withstanding a provincial cafe-culture 
Of restaurants and exciting little bars,
Enhance upon regal elegance of the crammed hotels
Regency period style facades;
Their fashionable shadows slowly lifting and...

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4.
on this spine 
having a mouth of crocodile
always jump down 
the climate     

everyday 
the sunglass changes 

look at the soil and the sky 
no one of them has any body-guard 

the...

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if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name 
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31 
then would the wings of the comics 
cease to exist 

what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling 
from...

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MY SANCTUARY
    
          My garden of dream is a Nature Reserve
          That is my...

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DECAYING HOUSE 
  
      Old lady living in old building.
             Doors with rusty latches, windowpane
  ...

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This one’s a castle, that’s a customs-house.
They’re stolid, listless, just a little dull.
The sky supports an arbitrary gull.
The languidness of Lizst, the style of Strauss

are wholly absent.  Colours are metallic.
The eye sweeps over cornice,...

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Bazaar
 

The nights’ chest opens up -
strings of illusions
rattle in palms
the knowing buyers haggle
for a dream
while the fascinated women
try on 
toles of princesses or odalisques.
In the shell of hope
genuine perls are priceless.

Silk labyrinth
of amber and...

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the open-hair magnolia remains standing
putting a hand on the window-bar 
of the camellia 

sometimes 
i think of knowing from her 
through sending a pink-letter 
who have gone in the fall of night 
crossing the border...

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A pretty large pumpkin
Light orange red dome
A greenish hand holding the petiole
Is there a green soul

It's a little obscure
The halloween moon is
just a slim crescent

Roots and branches are a giant spiderweb
holding a spooky silhouette

On that...

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I couldn’t let me die
=
The edge of the cornice is a call I cannot avoid;
the torrents of sounds, vague and uncommunicating,
are encircling myself; the edge of the cornice calls me.

A whisper of nothings, which can...

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