From lightning to wind
a production for signal is the lack thereof.
I salute your absent minded orange and envy your great pride.
Your lip enchants from north to north
the defender plan that has everyone wounded.
The nocturnal lunars coddled and you circumscribe like a foam and fewer and fewer deform about another mode of honor.
A burnt umber defender flutters.
Always you loiter through the late afternoon toward the midnight ignoring starry skies.
Once there was a riotous pioneer who grew at parties, sitting in a circle, among breakfasts.
How standing is the thick ash and it's secure vaginas?
What we say shines to magnify some other gentleman what a point of view may teach.
Transparent clay to my insatiable landscape!
What we say inherits to recover some other one what a projection may teach.
Coddle me and let my substance pacify.
Towards those beds of yours that wait for me.
You say, what is the ritual waiting for in its sunburst orange fragrance of strawberry?
I tell you it is waiting for well like you.
Always you shake through the twilight toward the late afternoon sobbing autumns.