The music lilts
Five notes - butterflies utter
A gyre brims tears
...
Tinkled – the Sundays’ bells
Brought by the wings
Flown beyond the dodge palace
...
Dying my years
Cramped into tears
Words gone be etched
.
...
Flush the fledglings’ stench
Before the sun runs
After day dies.
...
Tinkling milliard of ions
In slow motion into my
Synapses canal that
...
My mind dives
Ere.
Pearl reflects
...
Wobbles like sneaks.
Some are too gay looking
To be real
Like images we can see these days on store’ windows at Robson Street.
...
13 French Poems
Enfant
Dit ton aiguille
A ceux qui sont long.
...