Poetry

I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
of hunger.
 
The poverty of words
hides the bread, ..
You cannot eat an emblem.
 
The calibration has failed.
Milk contains the
contaminated water.
 
Everyone has one's own
book, where you write your name
and bear malice for everybody.