Bats
Bats on my windows

suck in my words

Bats at the entrance to my house

behind newspaper , in corners

trail my footsteps ,

observing every movement of my head

From the back of the chair, bats watch me

They trail me in the streets

watching my eyes pause

on books, on young girls' legs . . .

they watch and watch

On my neighbor's balcony , bats,

and electronic gadgets hidden in the walls

Now bats are on the verge

of suicide

I am digging a road to daylight

Ashes
Don't you feel we have lost so much

that our " great " love is now only words ,

that there's no more yearning , no urgency,

no real joy in our hearts, and when we meet

no wonder in our eyes?

Don't you feel our encounters are frozen ,

our kisses cold,

that we've lost the fervor of contact

and now merely exchange polite talk ?

Or we forget to meet at all

and tell false excuses . . .

Don't you feel that our brief hurried letters

lack feeling and spirit,

contain no whispers or dreams of love ,

that our responses are slow and burdened . . .

Don't you feel a world has tumbled down

and another arisen ?

That our end will be bitter and frightening

because the end not fall on us suddenly

but came from within