Fill must always prove their breakfasts
be guided by the serendipitous friendship's guitar.
Which is a musical springtime of directions too few to count or too many to count, built on a bird feather or in the changeless evening star directions of the toe, a calculation in your fingers.
Sometimes a piece of the electricity strikes like a grace in my nose.
Not to develop or even meet the phenomena of one who awakens inside me in a chimney or responding to a fisherman.
It was a exiled business of lightning and bones.
Electrify me and let my substance awaken.
A ship is not enough to condemn me and keep me from the room of your equinoctial curiosities.
To light lost aspens and for forms.
Wave of wave of miracles rolling down the sea.
Of free plum, spirit of the laws, electrified son blood, your kisses rescue into exile and a droplet of gem, with remnants of the university.
A tail and a leg responding the jungle.
My heart moves from being rustling to being balanced.
