In that café, I penned my poems
pinned a living butterfly of my heart...

Fire!
the collapse of the matter...

Between the tangles of all the floggings
skies...

Could you for wile cuddle this little bug,
this hug- less kitten in the cold...

In the absolute pitch of trustless dark
I found the touch of your fingers...

The river crosses
prairies like a butterfly...

With you I'm begun,
no more a phantom...

The audio of this...

The loneliest alley was the alley
everyone passing through...

Being a gender is too tight
a dungeon...

If there is a promise to make
it is to the truth...

My heart is a
magic peregrine bird...