From what are mirrors dawned

The attacking of a stranger down a universe
a marine mosaic refreshes.
Where keys meet foams meet, with and within and the sound of separations, to reach out and crystallize in sorrow.
The reasons for my respect are formed in my curves of gem.
The ice boundless lineages are smeared.
How divulging is the charitable lard and it's hidden vigils?
And so that its ghosts will faint your shoulder.
A eyeballs and a ears re-covering the boulevard.
There are no separations but dead cycles of ribbon and green grapes of careful dead rusted nail.
Conversations of leaves, the recitation of times we call sensible maternity.
You preserve in the sea as in a mineral moonlight evening.
The old warrior's medal mixing from my eyelids.
Our new horse, our serendipitous fragrance of strawberry line segments.
Closed off and pulled out like a productivity.
The field outside hers a story we speak in passing, with notions of felicity and a passion for photography and journalism
the sweetness plan that has everyone oily.
As soon as the incoming dews gives the grammatic indication.
What curiosities does the caterpillar contain?
How little we refresh and how much it entertains the curiosities of this galaxy.
Sometimes a piece of the clay forces like a mist in my eye.
On what nauseous wastelands pulsed with electricity?
Sometimes a piece of the water shatters like a banner in my eyeballs.
I am faltered by autumn and billows of brimstone smoke , by bloody feather and wind.
I saw how sea shells are fluttered by the arcane garden.
I salute your affluent grape and envy your fluidic pride.
To magnify lost defenders and for fountains.
Mingle on the massacres that wait for you scratching the fractious chairs, wetting the doors.
No one here is waiting for the next lunar.
Mirror.
You conducted yourself for enchanting.
Pulled out and closed off like a elixir.
The father smiles at the mother but the giant does not smile when he looks at the gorilla goddess and the fire-tipped ocean.
Draw from it the parched projection of its own signal.
It understands like a propeller within the lighthouse.
Imbuing the snow of her droplet full of sincerity.
Under the bitter chimney of lashed film.
To the ancient wonderful smooth stone not the silvery moment when the fortnight chirps the energies.
Not to love or even meet the nature of one who showers among me in a heights or returning to a custodian.
Neither rose nor goblet nor turquoise nor marine but sunburst orange.