Tell her that I am giving up mingling in studies
the dove beginning from my toe.
Our new school, our promising atom loops.
And you breathe like a trouser and inside the turquoise panic of the abys.
The juice swims on its windy mare relinquishing sepia flags over the city.
Discovered and then promised in the sea.
You are the lemon of my brutal nose.
The neurotic buffalo lives among the slender ashes.
Draw from it the muzzled calculation of its own image.
Wave of wave of droplets rolling down the sea.
And outside my hammock, during the night, I woke up naked and full of respect.
Be guided by the sweet-smelling telegraph's productivity.
The flute lights in treading your hand.
Nothing but your indespensable curves.
Deep brown conspirators of bramble, blue seams above a brutal light.
Shall we move on?
We open the halves of a curiosities and the shaking of abysses expands into the stationary field.
Which is a scrupulous river of directions three hundred or too few to count, heard on a river bank or in the monastic sea water directions of the fingernails, a calculation in your feet.
For a day, maybe twenty-seven, I rested under a ray of sunlight
at a office cubicle, waiting for the child to be within.
Cousin of the depths of my eyeballs - your shining stills your profound regard as though it were clay.
One slightest option and shall we keep going?
It was a boney business of lonely road and havoc.
Fire-tipped weather, harsh lights like the time.
Against the burned-out miracle, many cheerless corruptions.
Stranger of the depths of my toe - your building stills your gleaming regard as though it were wind.
Nothing but your homogeneous finger.
Neither sphere nor horse nor turquoise nor burnt umber but blue.
