Let me embrace your pains
you, my brothers and sisters...

Tick-tuck, tick-tuck she tiptoe walked
towards my door...

When a poet chants
a songster is ensnared...

When one cannot write
It is not writers block...

Blood are tender,
though the fangs of thorns are made of stainless...

Look
how inflated I am...

Our expanding
only circles to reflect in the given radius...

London
caressing the bruised pelt of a perpetual wisdom...

The timbre of a crying dog burning in the...
unsettling like unknown...

Poetry is the might
to individuate the most latent blooms...

A pussycat jumped over the moon
soon she realized the moon was nothing...

There are transparent fossils,
the fossils of voices...