I walk on the street of this town
unadorned and unfashioned...

She cried for a little gingerbread
because its arm was missing...

Tracing a wrinkle
I ended at far beyond...

The black man Jazzes
Inferno tangoes my soul...

Do you remember us
as moths trapped...

Years are multiplying!
We celebrate our birthdays...

Don't stretch your arms
like the branches...

When would this vagabondage end?
Where, my friend...

Love brings every side of wounds together
and sew through them with pang...

Buzz!
This was...

The entire world
is whitened from within...

And this is me:
the Prometheus of poetry...