I
feel much in you, those raspberry patches, the blueberry garden; those gallica
roses those hybrid tulips so spatial so remote such an island. the loans of the
city, the rates of caimans, so struck by intelligence. to speak a name, our
majestic snakes, our mahogany ocean. if but to adore without perception but
purity by relations; those maps framing skulls those rubies so gentle at
treasuries or blackdamp(s); our locks and keys our platforms, from one mind to
one room. it was sweltering heaven, it was galaxy pride, where life was rushed.
(I feel much in you, such overdone loyalty, such dear dignity, so aloof to
doubts or indecision.) the pavement sees the sky. the sky sees the universe.
winds are walls nudging us closer. by rapture made deliberately, by angels our
rare challenges, where two invest in nectar or apricots or erotic appetites. so
raw by passion so raw with pressures while reality is shaped by its rawness.
our perceptual syntax, our spiritual structure, our painful predicates. the
wise are living grays, those uninformed are craving rays, while simplicity is
awfully complex: our gate-paths our soul-fences where two objects require each
other for usage. our ceiling sharks our imaginary Axe Cop or anything
promising to remove responsibility. but Love is by founts so much to personality
a dear famous elegance.
