that my child kykloforaei secrets
After lost sailing right
go n’ empty the bucket with tert’ my trash
-soul butts and apopoiimatakia-
there still boiling over old youth
and lofty sea.
Again, straight on the sea belly black
that elevates smoke cloud
as voices over sinking
Losers are caught by t 'unreachable
As I yesterday on the day of Saint George
that DHA can paravgo with horses standing
and poured all my, Oxo than land, the spoony
(From the poetry collection "Diary of an invisible April").