Benoît Pioulard - Shut-Ins on Sunday See

So Etched in Memory

As Would a Weaver

Is in Its Clearest Form

And Relent

The Very Edge of Its Flame

Whose Palms Create

Of Everything That Rhymes

That Wounded Weathered

An Image Apart from Ourselves

The Gilded Fear That Guides the Flow

Under the Break Arch

A Shade of Celadon

Anchor as the Muse

With No Advantage

Initial B.P.

Rampampam

Можно я с тобой

Дурак и молния

По барам

Dance Monkey

Пошла жара

Marmalade

Мёртвый Анархист

Komarovo

Девочка, танцуй

Снежинки

Где прошла ты

Пьяный туман

Кукла колдуна

Black Samurai