Is that you?
Seated, the motionless,
Black haired girl.
...
What is there in this snowstorm?
So close to my door, it's on the porch.
Accessible as any desert to a Bedouin.
...
A little girl's words
Are like dolls,
All together at a party.
Fancily dressed in curled lines,
...
The inventor is an artist of the road,
Which he builds, from the turning
In the parts that he finds.
...
</>Narcissus wrote a poem,
Nine lines, two stanzas,
A good short poem.
...
We know someone,
Who mines his liver,
And heart,
And sells this,
...
Enjoying its last footless dance,
The Autumn rain falls like a warm soap.
Where there is room, water sits,
And braces for the winter's rent.
...