Paper Buckles 1-3

1. any colour may be applied to the night-dress this city actually has no cart driven by horses before a pretty long time the shepherds had also told adieu by secret signalling the red-hat addiction called the pigeons sitting on the broken sticks of the antenna to come nearer on those dead-news the travel-story keeps awake by whole night and pours down on eye-lids clouds wrapped with cellophane one day that wave sent rolling-down-on-the-back hair to the yellow balcony those are all ancient drama in the glow of the back-light you can see civic humps have grown up on the back of the birds every day and night yet under the dead-stop ceiling fan the dance of the virgin reel wet with sweat does not fall short the paper-buckles with the flowers painted on it gets more and more tight on the air of the throat velpuris of the evening offer full enjoyment 2. the night that comes all walking on the sands of the desert how much concern does she has about the navigability of the river when the husk of the water-chestnut is got open flowing down the waves bursting into a blaze to that flow is open the motor-car the wan procession and all the fishes that want to go upward the wave so many varieties of floating if the matter of clouds be let off the multi-coloured fingers also have so many infotainments if the question of moveable property is raised it is only a suicide-note from my father and a knot in the robe of the blue trouser 3. the trees and creepers of the night and the plants and herbs of the day do all of them have the same blood-group there is much flora inside the jail-custody also and in this ruins of the old palace how much is it justified to express eagerness about the geography of one’s character specially of the trees of the fishes or of the humans it is said all rivers flowing through the bodies of the great men are totally virgin there is also the blank desert on the silent snow-valley in the corner of your lips