Pillanatkép

                                                            Alvó papíron fáradt rímek.

                                                            Préselt emlékek,rossz sorok.

                                                            Vak koldus ül a sarki járdán.

                                                            Valaki megölné magát.

                                                            Elfáradt csend zokog.

                                                            Csendes feltámadás

                                                            Most csak

                                                            a kín-

                                                            robajló

                                                            fényszitálás.

                                                            Ragyás éjszakák

                                                            fehér tisztulása-

                                                            nincs visszút

                                                            és nem lesz

                                                            már kiszállás

                                                         -  csak vérző lelkünk

                                                            csendes

                                                            feltámadása.

                                                           Némaségom

                                                          Némaságom

                                                          a legszebb

                                                          gondolat ma-

                                                          hamvaszt tüzet.

                                                          Érzéki mint

                                                          szemed,

                                                          tavaszba lopja

                                                          a nap tisztaságát

                                                          és bomló rügyek

                                                          sikolyán nevet...

                                                         A költő jussa

                                                                                   A.nak

                                                      Égettnek

                                                      szúrnak

                                                      a szavak

                                                      átjárnak

                                                      mint a

                                                      barna ősz

                                                      a húsos keblű

                                                      délutánt

                                                      s a kert

                                                      mögötti

                                                      dombtetőt

                                                      ennyi a jussa

                                                      semmi több

                                                      a költőnek

                                                      mert élni mert-

                                                      szavakban rejlő

                                                      aljas ő s

                                                      ma már

                                                      ennyit sem érdemel

                                                      elnémulna

                                                      örökre rég

                                                      de szúrja csend

                                                      ha rá szakad-

                                                      éjt szült a tűz

                                                      vak békeláng

                                                      sziromtalan

                                                      kemény szavak

                                                      utáljátok meg

                                                      s ennyi,kész,

                                                      dobjátok túl

                                                      az éjszakán-

                                                      verset vézik

                                                      vagy kínnal szőtt

                                                      sorokat egy

                                                      volt Szép után.

                                                                               2o12.