So splendor’s blue irony discharges the wardens of Winter’s hospital: Spring at the yielding gates.…

Haunted by the fall of rain, the thirsty stones reciting what the stream had said:…

Horizon shaken to ashes, the prim bride chanting above the congregation. Her vowels and consonants…

Born in the year imagination pretended to break the rules, body counts soaring well beyond…

The blind king neglects his garden, forgets its healing waters, trembles withered hands out of…