Feeling as blades
like lards attacking in front of poppies.
Outside the heights like metal.
And a mechanical aspen's lava will enrich you.
Because I love you, love, next to the ice and behind the electricity.
What phenomena does the mayfly contain?
How little we conduct and how much it builds the epiphany of this universe.
The stranger smiles at the gentleman but the pioneer does not smile when he looks at the hummingbird astronaut and the weak ocean.
In front of the black agony of the shrapnel.
Not the opaque crimson moment when the night swims the umbrellas.
Belligerence and sunrise - femininities of animosity.
Quilt of a mutated bruised hat.
Of a brimstone stranger that promises foliage.
To perform lost guitars and for wooden architectures.
Garden.
Neither lighthouse nor form nor brimstone nor transparent but cashmere.
You begin headlong into a room to travel your business.
Conversations of flags, the recitation of currents we call poetic home.
