Sparrows are benign,
their textures are so fine...

Garden is in the taste of honey...

Why are mockingbirds mocking me?
why do...

The nightmare
is that nobody is out there...

Do you remember
in cold winters...

Sunset, sunrise
an opulent pair of bloodshot cherries...

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

I soak in the clear well of morning dues
to bespatter...

Sorrow,
soaked and swollen...

Thus said a boy ingrown and callow
to his mother...

She puts the knife on the lamb’s throat
but seeing the innocent lamb in the eyes...

(old one)
They conspired against songs...