Parading

soon, the night buds will unfold.

I am on a float trip in the Buddha’s mind.

no more of your springtimes are needed

the magical half-tab / you’re waiting to take. Rimbaud to Verlaine,

And beauty came like the setting sun:

What are they called.

My world is hydrogen burning in space and in the

The longing to be pure

But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,

to hear it purr. I asked science is there a way