letter to spring / michael kwack

in a wind

there i smell a scent of spring

i've passed the winter away

in a far place alone

but it was now

only hours of emptiness

i've got to write letters

the last confession to myself

then meet the spring

in complete quietness

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Play in the Night

                      --Michael Kwack

From two o’clock

When owls hoot

Up to four when cocks crow

Surely I will be kept awake,

To watch the secret play

Of the conscious and unconscious.

However, I will not see

The queer performance inside me

As a mere dream in the night.

If I long for better plays,

More will I wander dur...

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