Parading

It is the weight more than the night.

Time is too afraid of passing, is riddled with holes

Daylight ran short.

Oh, those mighty kings of the jungle, I could hardly stand to see ’em

The clouds are marshalling across the sky,

Facts about the iris

I think I grow tensions

Open your eyes, / open your hands. I have just come

The work of wings

Give me your gift, to lose my self in words,