Benoît Pioulard - That Wounded Weathered

Under the Break Arch

Is in Its Clearest Form

A Shade of Celadon

Whose Palms Create

The Very Edge of Its Flame

Initial B.P.

So Etched in Memory

An Image Apart from Ourselves

The Gilded Fear That Guides the Flow

As Would a Weaver

Of Everything That Rhymes

And Relent

Shut-Ins on Sunday See

Anchor as the Muse

With No Advantage

Die For You

Timber

Sign

There She Goes

Lie To Me

Blinding Lights

Easy On Me

Bir Garip Yolcuyum

A Desert Born in Twilight

When We Were Young

Take Me Away

Old Me

PAIN

Fantasy

Don't Make Me Wait Too Long