Days are crisp,
nights chilled...

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary...

The seizure,
volatile it was...

Renunciating
the flesh, now you ask for...

Standing under a
bottlebrush I write a...

On marbled lids we
stretch our arms to collect...

A frosty look when
moon floats in a cup...

Give me the whole
of a fragment...

In search of peace
he burnt down his books...

It was a mediocre crowd.
You wanted to touch...

Leave me alone
amidst the daisies...

An alien feeling
of weird dreams...