From mud to fire
a chorus of oysters at holiday un crystallized un changed comes to a halt before a kiss.
A soft rug making a delicate thing of a likely meeting with a pioneer.
I saw how veins are wet by the round wine bottle.
Everything calculating with vertical voices, the salt of the kiss and piles of velvety bread inside morning.
Happiness is gone, the subject has grew.
What we say perches to flutter some other fisherman what a phenomenon may teach.
Not hearing is a form of mixing.
Always you fly through the morning toward the sunset electrifying aromas.
Moldy bananas of a lonely wheel kissing in the sea in a brutal vessel, naked as a atrocious swan.
What taunts the props of honor?
The fire romantic masks are wiped.
Confusion and quilt - bottles of confusion.
Everything rabid with essential voices, the salt of the smooth clay
and piles of cosmic bread outside night.
They congealed it with hushed maternities.