The moon, a racing car and jeans
Three days operating in the WW1 trenches
Smoke on the horizon, ducks on TV
The fog has stripped off woods
Crying cocks on altars bequethed to mutiny
Mt. Fuji is a pallisade for badgers
Earning blood, vinegar without bells
Blindness sealed three times
Skaters on wooden seas in meditation
The tongue has sprung so high
A fish in a carefree wave of wand
A tram dipped in ketchup instead of love
Nothing is falling through
Letters scattered in a meadow float
Where is he in this timid quake?
Diffused sand, a tennis ball
Hitters on hills refuse to lunch
Ready in a desert, bigger than the lightning
