Rhapsodic undertones, rapturous souls, raffled to
spirits. Ideal chaos, to imagine her tone, once the idyllic becomes silence. Terrific
idolatry – to make a goddess – to entertain with a Queen; rites and angels,
upheaval and calmness, graves and resurrection. Pure rhapsody – in and out of
courtyards, too far to kiss, too explosive to touch (a soul must be equipped).
Strings for season, pianos for nightingales, memories for torture. To have need
for luxury, unprepared for rapture, kneeling aside two crows. Grackles made
aloof. A phoenix feeling lazy. So much peril, so great the winnings, as it will
never ensue. Panama lenses, Sunset thrills, our desert is full of seas. By
horrific attraction, science is convoluted, a sound in majesty has appeared.
Combined as risen warriors. Falling into a private dungeon. Dragged and kicking
down a corridor.
