An oriole gives
an edgy call...

I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in...

When you were rolling in dust,
a puritan said, truth was me...

Inside, the battle wages.
One step down...

Maimed, tortured for love of resistance
this night appears to be...

On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing...

Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river...

Fear of a mound,
tumbling down...

Trapped in your body
a city starts...

The twisted moon
moved horizontally...

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads...

Last night
moon was following me...