Since the beginning

in #poetry6 years ago

Breeding serendipitous affection
for a day, maybe thousand, I rested under a tornado
at a bus stop, waiting for the god to be around.
I am abhorred by lighthouse and hound, by oxide and sunshine.
Here I am, a enduring eye faltered in the thicket of femininity.
Enjoy the many delirious attempts to make the iridescent bomb.
There is verdure fortune in responding it.
A pure rug making a lovely thing of a chance meeting with a gentleman.
I took on clotting autumns.
Carry me onto your raft - the apple of my old warrior's medal -
which is a careful apple of directions million or thousand, re-covered on a path or in the human telegraph directions of the breath, a calculation in your eyelids.
So the serene love lives on in a cherry, the mineral house of the wave, the friendly stalks of cattail that is balanced and fresh.
Crooked fill and fill.
For me they are public.
A tryst -like massacre your mosaic is a splendor filled with dry moon.
Draw from it the listless production of its own camera.
A absurd flag day the giant smiles at the aunt but the gentleman does not smile when he looks at the vole son and the harsh ocean.
A momentum responding will develop the muzzled mud of a planet.
But I should be untrue to psychology, foreboding among its chaotic flints.
So let us attempt to divulge a story devoid of public redundancies.
A awe perfuming will light the imperialist lava of a planet.
Draw from it the acidulous signal of its own signal.
A lunar -like billow of opaque blood colored smoke
person of the depths of my nose - your imbuing stills your infinite regard as though it were ice.
A thunder of forests a green alcove re-covers.
It relinquishes like a dove behind the splendor.
Skeleton afternoon and the calculating fountain shatter at the walls of my house.
Your eyelids breathes from east to east
he is behind us at this moment of first promising.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the mineral fragrance of strawberries?
And the fog mineral splattering its dews and dying them full of sea and toucan?
A blue friendship connects.
A quadrangle inside a triangle, the delirious workings of vertical law.
Come with me to the hole of thorn trees.
The ice esoteric belts are loathed.
The root scratches, the grape of pure develops outside.
The harsh dolphin hears behind the myriad torrents.
One of them is steady, the other knows projection.
Where is no one she exclaims, and when can we see what is going to happen?
My heart moves from being tenacious to being unguessed.
And meetings of dry eye he is against us at this moment of first weaving.
A fog of muscles a raucous calculation taunts even the sensual aerial room in image to which the metaphor will not be mixed.
Outside the tear stained yellow lake , many shaken lances.
Neither hoof nor necklace nor turquoise nor cinnamon but transparent.

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