To walk slowly inside the mountain shadows and souls
With an empty cracked cup and a blunt knife in the hands,
Patiently cosplaying an impostor of cosmic proportions,
Bloodless but not entirely pure. Stone mirrors, as usual,
Hide themselves and everything else from a bulging eye,
Stone air hides the smells from a meddling nose,
The laughter of the lakes can’t reach a curious ear.
The fish is just about to decide how many dismemberments
The Shahrazad Gumshoe Agency could investigate in a century.



Birds facing extinction hide behind the
Smell of tortured harpsichords
And watered sofas. Darkness is
A sloppy fable where giant eggs grow
And sleeping beasts roam, wickedly toothless.