In the service of flesh
new vision was perfecting a cult...

Finally I found myself.
This book of life...

A blank paper invites
for rape...

Sometimes horizon roams with moon
I pluck the stars...

To search you
I am burning my wheels...

You asked for an explanation
for a flame. A bat...

Wages
of alienation...

The valley holds on, to murder
of moon, behind the trees...

Your gifts, I do not want to keep.
Shapeless doves on the grass...

Sometimes I will interplay
the secrets...

One final leap
from high solitude...

Small things were
witness to genes...