To get a full nelson on, an insect in an insect cage, into the fire.
To be worn away, at the knife edge, salt to put on.
Drinking straight from a bottle, at a foot of a bridge, I’m not in the mood for crossing.
Of the same numbers as black keys, taiyakis, Japanese fish-shaped cakes, eat and stay here.
Over the wide sea, to bloom at my right eye, the seeds of a dandelion flies.