Poetry

Not afraid of any
wrath, I was quiet at the
end of beginning to hold on.

Won't squeeze,
if you bring me to flames
to track the grace of
a dying sun.

Inappropriate―
a queer look of the moon, when
the eyes were dead and
lips were moving.

Venus explodes
in the spirit of eternal star.
There was no philosophy of
daring fire. It was very cool.

The queen cobra
raises its hood to strike
the milky way for
raising the lust.