To rhyme rape and ripe and search, as though at half- shadow, for where reason…

I Look, it’s raining again, upon a field of Indian green. As it did that…

In a corner of the statue’s gougeable eye, the sea frets, vast reduced to a…

Drop, Aquila, rush me taloned. Tripe me to an eagle’s uncooked banquet. I am flung…

I Love of squalor is a gift, a magic to uncharm the creep of disappointment,…