I don’t
imagine more love, so bias so warm. we picture souls
by
rainbow or life as painted by claws. I engender
meadows
by busy heights, adrift to swoon—living by
marrow.
we died so often, amidst pangs, at arts bathing
crises.
meek piers of thoughts! let us flower by poison, to
rebel
the flight of rules; for love is green, or tears are
fertile,
or death is whisper. goodbye! such baling
illusion,
to sculpture a scream, to engrave mayflies.
touch
me or walk away. I vomit to chase,
for love is
gunning.
courage is irregular. But we woo fears.
if
to lean gently, if brains gave sanity, such clean delusion.
such
cosmic development: a heart speaks, it dies without permission.
in every
mirror but beasts, plus, elixir. let
us
savior
silver, where symmetry is mirage or love is debatable.
