By Kenj The fish of Saint Anselm Rivers as so wild flow, fish no power but to follow Up to the sea the journey ends yet a new starts As born they think a home first and ever to last Time passes, to change the perfect they want not ‘Ve heard the fool to St. Anselm, in hands the betters Hence the mind from the unknown freaks and fears As elder fish travel connections with youngest drops Poor fish their only wish the destination late to reach So far so impossible the find just by mind only to perceive Pressure on ears as down soo high on eyes as deep so dark

By KENJ The mug On thy ears iron irony words may fall No control upon the tongue is so cruel At the tip or still on mind in production Keep the thoughts till weight its function Listen to the heart and imagine yourself Such words or statements to you to be said To break is not a big deal but to be aware of Yesterday's lightless night got Man to see nothing Lots of jars may have been broken while moving But their place, empty not to leave To fix or to discuss what was uttered is in vain A broken glass needs to melt and reform again A new start like yesterday gets the affairs to shrink Believe,

We sing in the branches,
The birds of night, born brittle
In broken words and melancholic memes,
As holy as the body in a dream
 
Woven in, set upon a tree,
Old and scorned, played out like a fiddle
With worn out strings, a holy see
That’s thrown upon the body in a dream
 
Windows open and close down here—
We listen with fear but cannot hear
And feel we’re being seen
In silence as the body in a dream
 
Until, at last, the knock that rocks the door,
With words that whisper no more—
Ancient and wise, torn at the seams,