A Mirror
Two faces loom in the catastrophe -

my father and his horse ; a little moon

that we will capture sails above our house.

If only we could regain our childhood ,

we'd imprison that moon a while between our hands

and when our hearts opined , let it fly away .

An Incident
I saw a hand waving from the river ,

it quivered before it disappeared ,

wiped off something - a luminous trace of air,

scent of carnation .

The fingers continued to play , wavered ,

drew desperate words on the surface ,

grew tired , and went under .

How we rejoice alone,

while beneath the water ,

there are sunken forests of desires-

the province of the losers .