From red to green all the yellow is dying
When macaws sing in native forests
Pihis giblets
There’s a poem to do about the bird with only one wing
We will send it by phone message
giant truamatism
It makes your eyes run
Here is a pretty young girl among the young Turinese
The poor young man was blowing his nose in his white tie
You will lift the curtain
And now the window opens
Spiders when hands weaved light
Pale Beauty Unfathomable Purples
We will try in vain to rest
We’ll start at midnight
When we have time we have freedom
Winkles Monkfish Multiple Suns and the Sunset Sea Urchin
An old pair of yellow shoes in front of the window
Towers
The Towers are the streets
Well
Well these are the squares
Well
Hollow trees that shelter wandering Capresses
The Chabins sing tunes to die for
At the Maroon Chabines
And the goose wow-wow trumpet to the north
Where the train white with snow and night lights flees the winter
Oh Paris
From red to green all the yellow is dying
Paris Vancouver Hyères Maintenon New York and the West Indies
The window opens like an orange
The beautiful fruit of light