Benoît Pioulard - A Shade of Celadon

Whose Palms Create

Initial B.P.

Shut-Ins on Sunday See

As Would a Weaver

That Wounded Weathered

So Etched in Memory

Of Everything That Rhymes

The Very Edge of Its Flame

Is in Its Clearest Form

Anchor as the Muse

Under the Break Arch

The Gilded Fear That Guides the Flow

With No Advantage

An Image Apart from Ourselves

And Relent

Hey Kop

Residuals

Hayat Şaşırtır!

I Stand Accused

I Don't Play About My Paper

Muntu wami

Spending My Time With You

Nothing

Why Won't You Love Me

Да пошёл ты нахуй, ёбаный Серёга

Make It Easy

O Little Town Of Bethlehem

Медуза

What I Might Do

Liquor