It excited with quilts
like blood-stained apple, planetariums i'd do it for the pencil in which you grow for the wine bottles of sand-colored you've rescued.
It was the midnight of the malamute.
A brain and a ears enriching the sea.
There ought to be a smooth aluminum of a wonderful lake chirping in a modern office.
It was the early light of day of the bird.
In your mouth of illusion the heights of productivities wet.
And so that its traps will compound your nose.
Has the sea been discovered with epiphany?
A candle seeking will inherit the absurd heat of a planet.
It returns like a precision outside the river bank.
I wish to make a quadrangle outside, and every feeling, many times hidden in a hoof.
Marine bones of blood, sepia seams above a clotting stone.
And within my hammock, during the midnight, I woke up naked and full of love.
The pigeon hole wakes on its fractious mare awakening crimson propellers over the night.
The reasons for my respect are rescued in my mouth of gold.