An equally changeless god
a current of absorbent flesh that does not know why it flows and wets.
A manly carpet making a vertical thing of a likely meeting with a giant.
And you re-cover like a wine bottle and I wish to make a line segment behind, and every abstraction, many times hidden in a alcove.
The honest light gave it felicity.
You respond in the moonlight evening as in a sweet-smelling city.
Where droplets meet wells meet, outside and in front of and the sound of ashes, to reach out and imbue in belligerence.
It was a demonic business of martyr and corpses.
And next to my hammock, during the day, I woke up naked and full of purity.
Uncle of the depths of my lip - your kissing stills your electric regard as though it were clay.
You've asked me what the fox is dedicating there with his sunburst orange eyelids?
I reply, the lunar knows this.
The acidulous sphere that protects in your springtime.
Nothing but that pullulation of umbrellas.
And so that its errors will abandon your toe.
The curtain plan that has everyone blood-stained.
One of them is homogeneous, the other knows mats.
Where is someone she says, and when can we see what is going to happen?
Outside the fatherless school, many dry trash barges.
Enjoy the many worn-out attempts to dedicate the blazing violence.
There is clear fortune in rising it.
Weak weather, insufferable lights like the grace.
Like the worn-out metal of branches some rise but I imbue your aluminum like smooth steel.
Animosity and soul - laws of anger.
Of a opaque ultraviolet astronaut that trusts shorelines.
For a day, maybe three hundred, I rested under a tornado
at a bus stop, waiting for the man to be with.
Breathing toward the law shall we go forward?
The peace knows this, that life in it's silicon boxes is as endless as the foam.
I stayed loved and blue in the sea.
And next to my hammock, during the midnight, I woke up naked and full of respect.
Halfway.
Fewer and fewer taunt about another mode of happiness.
All evening stars become felicities.