- Fleece The ventriloquist so devoted to the act he's forgotten he is speaking.
- Volume II — The Torn Pages The want—that vulgar, enormous engine—has not died; it just fits quieter amplitudes.
- Volume I — The Worn Pages I learned the dialect of my own heart in a country that owed me nothing.
- Flight of the Fireflies They are weaving their gold-wire signatures through the ruin.
- The Weight of the Sun The world isn't a race to be won; it's a texture to be felt.
- Hello, World somewhere between signal and silence, I began.