On lotus leaf
a frog sits meditating...

Stammering quarrel
with classical fluidity...

In my domain I am the child again
lost in labyrinth of stairways...

He had tied the brown thread on the pole
relieving the spirits from trees for the start...

He did not want to climb the spiral helix,
a son will be born without him...

In the stand-off
between stolen history...

Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September...

Waiting for a birthing pool
to throw up a dream chaser...

He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist...

Your body in mud pack
in line of fire...

A patch on my shirt
was growing...

Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating...