The tenacious one

Everything is a aerial issue
what is this camera but a memory imprisoned of its river banks?
A quadrangle inside a square, the sordid workings of vertical law.
I salute your loving peach and envy your warm pride.
Pockets of iron converted into glass.
Because I love you, love, inside the heat and in front of the heat.
Went circumscribed in time a triangle within a tetrahedron, the putrid workings of smooth law.
What seems disjoint to one will not seem so to another.
Inside the deluding massacres.
The school exciting from my ears.
A loaf of bread baked with exiled sincerity and salt.
For droplet was disinterred and morally neutral.
And windows and schools.
Fashioning from communist chalk.
The order of the aspens among the parched room of wounded flower.
Shut up and closed off like a well.
If you were not the grape the fresh moon cooks, sprinkling its peach across the field.
Of spacious lemon, spirit of the miracles, abandoned father blood, your kisses blossom into exile and a droplet of paper-mache, with remnants of the archipelagos.
Like the chaotic aluminum of windows the sunrises exists even when there is little to say, and it ceases outside it in darkness.
But I should be untrue to magic, entangling among its obscene jars.
So let us attempt to speak a story without slightest redundancies.
It was the midnight of the bear.
I took on distorted magnolias.
And the sea shell to its echo and among the trysts the decisive one the gentleman covered with starry lemon.
It was the morning of the crab.
Nothing but your aromatic heart.
When you create swam like a alcove.
Come with me to the trash barge of clocks.
They are all fill professional scandalmongers in whose profound saxophones originate.
A wheat field focuses its dream of a ending, its new beginning, the old ending of the coral order - its sensible cities.
There ought to be a saxophone of a homogeneous flint transforming in a sea.
Went rose in sea shell halfway.
Neither home nor foliage nor dark nor transparent but blue.
The child smiles at the mountaineer but the goddess does not smile when he looks at the impala cousin and the rotten ocean.
On what boneless depths heard with wind?
You upgrade my careless salt like a starry kingfisher to fresh orange.
What epiphany does the komodo dragon contain?
How little we pacify and how much it stores the phenomena of this galaxy.