Where did they come from?
Leaves holding crowns of tempo...

Escape,
breathing the anti-humid air...

I fill the population
a lost voice croaking...

My love
you are the water...

Even in these challenging days,
my heart can only sing if your presence lingers...

The bruised and heavy number
trying to settle on your eye bags...

1. I sculpt the eternal Heavens
with the palm of my hand...

Deep inside a glance
there is an individual stance...

Woodwind floats among limp mourners
who cannot force heavy claws back...

Let raindrops soak our heads
Quenching thirst of all we've said...

I hang plump peaches on scorched branches
with mending juice for your dry blistered hand...

Controversy
(the death of writers...