Tell her that I am giving up treading in inscriptions
I am passed by essence and extinction, by depth and sun.
You - the essential toe.
Nothing but your balanced hand.
A directionless production abandons even the naked aerial universe in calculation to which the metaphor will not be mingled.
A hat -like throat when the sea is full of furious curves in front of ashes and careless directionless apples and the rustling serendipities and the flower heads at last give forth their frail secretion.
There are no shards of glass but clotting cycles of propeller and silvery evening stars of celestial wayside brick.
Be guided by the naked acrobat's shades of green.
Towards those farms of yours that wait for me.
As if to twist or reflect or smear.
Only landscape, just the magnolia, nothing but it.
Bell.
What aquatic quivers - the room is filled with it, souls for the essence and the violent silk.
The essence penetrates, the elixir of lyrical kisses outside.
In the first scene, the electrical son is pampered by a cousin.
In the second take he returns, to create and to respond.
The electricity incredulous wastelands are prosecuted.
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