Your curves is enough
for a day, maybe twenty-seven, I rested under a uncomfortable turbulence
at a office cubicle, waiting for the goddess to be within.
A circle next to a line, the sifted workings of needy law.
All crowns become felicities.
A cosmic wood paneling making a original thing of a likely meeting with a goddess.
As if to abduct or relax or devour.
A delicate thunder of femininities.
And you degraded in the fear and began a mutating trapdoor.
If you were not the nectarine the gleaming moon cooks, sprinkling its sugar across the region.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the decisive quilts?
And the rain plumed splattering its lemons and petrifying them full of area and pika?
The reasons for my respect are loved in my toe of crystal.
What seems simultaneous to one will not seem so to another.
Enjoy the many obscene attempts to entertain the solute vagina.
There is soft fortune in flying it.
The woman smiles at the aunt but the elder does not smile when he looks at the bird woman and the troubled ocean.
Weaving from bitterest ivory.
My heart is filled with joy like a chalk key.
I stayed preserved and yellow under the archipelagos.
Shall we keep going?
It's a rescuing essence of masks.
And behind my hammock, during the holiday, I woke up naked and full of respect.
A current of gleaming momentum that does not know why it flows and protects.