They would go after
your dreams first before after...

Butterflies of poetry
forever flutter in their reflections...

Yet eager for more
noticing in the mirror...

We shut our doors close,
keep checking if they are locked...

Years are multiplying!
We celebrate our birthdays...

Do you remember us
as moths trapped...

In the middle of night I called her.
In the middle of the nightmare of daylight l...

Life is a river:
a coarse sieve...

Stop the world.
Ease in a second...

Butterflies,
oozing from...

All these roads are as the result of lashes
on the body of the Christ...

She is always dances amid her skirt.
Horizons always are very...