Visiting Hour

'The hospital smell combs my nostrils as they go bobbing along green and yellow corridors'

'What seems a corpse is trundled into a lift and vanishes heavenward'

'I will not feel, I will not feel, until I have to'

'after so many farewells'

'white cave of forgetfulness'

'A withered hand trembles on its stalk'

'into an arm wasted of colour a glass fang is fixed, not guzzling but giving'

'black figure in her white cave'

'leaving behind only books that will not be read and fruitless fruits'

Memorial

'Everywhere she dies. Everywhere I go she dies'

'No sunrise, no city square, no lurking beautiful mountain'

'The silence of her dying sounds through the carousel of language'

'It's a web on which laughter stitches itself'

'She grieves for my grief'

'bird dives from the sun, that fish leaps into it'

'No crocus is carved more gently than the way her dying shapes my mind'

'black words that make the sound of soundlessness'

'the nowhere she is continuously going into'

'Ever since she died she can't stop dying'

'She makes me her elegy'

'I am a walking masterpiece, a true fiction of the ugliness of death'

'I am her sad music'