we
sit in patience such sweet candescence.
we
die by fathoms or share by shovels:
pure
beauty after it lives in us deranged
precious
pleasures. our siren resounds
we
thresh a city while kneading raw
happiness;
cured by dangers or uncured
by
hopes or flame as it succumbs to spirits.
those
demanding whispers such arms
by
reach or legs running beauty; as
souls
distressed or joy at its canyons
lost
or untied—to live wresting love
or
to die welcomed by fire in fury to
have
adored those eyes; our minds
repent
our screams redeem the sands
by
shores those specters as wisdom
or
terrible winters such sweet remorse.
