It speaks, round hour of early black; miles of coruscating green, of subconscious, […]
Had I but enough sense; would follow the light, hold hands   and meander […]
The difficult route, always; Plato wished to banish poets from his republic because […]
Roses from snow hold on to light of the sun, as orchestra of […]
He is a cinnamon peeler; unrivaled, for this reason I am swept away— […]
I do not consume wine nor sing of saccharine promises that coat the […]