What have I needed to exclude should seem ready to raise nude
And contend with gravity. Rewards come to anyone, the balsamic moon
Dashes
the entrance, since there is not very much more of life to understand,
Ripens in the weeks following, and fossilizes into the down-sloping, piscine
Reflections that bore the comity of painting, of all accidents. Successive moons
Lap the standing water representing cities. With their low-water marks and sunken torches,
The work endows it with a sedimentary thickness. Lying from one’s own thoughts, the piscine
Sound catches, and denied an ordinary life, lends an inner ear to the keen of intimates
Watching the street near the flat, of getting a leg up. Take your chosen nuptial torch
Ripens in the weeks following, and fossilizes into the down-sloping, piscine
Reflections that bore the comity of painting, of all accidents. Successive moons
Lap the standing water representing cities. With their low-water marks and sunken torches,
The work endows it with a sedimentary thickness. Lying from one’s own thoughts, the piscine
Sound catches, and denied an ordinary life, lends an inner ear to the keen of intimates
Watching the street near the flat, of getting a leg up. Take your chosen nuptial torch
To
some footstep-haunted transept or tollgate. Push up to exploit the oxygen like
an angry
Swimmer, although flexing our proto-limbs failed to cultivate sleep. Rather an intimate
Footing with its fund of resentment, whether it was beyond the skull’s indwelling ear bones,
Trapdoor echo, and eternal tide-stranded replies, it happened with half of the angry
Modern values. Their letters smeared, although the more powerful for being digitalized.
There is a wide selection on offer—out of the cusp of middle age—the picked bones
Of our departed founder, where the results stood favoring a glistening, poolside nude.
The result is a Wunderkammer, indeed. Through countryside as black as the sea, digitalized
Versions would not tolerate the eccentric seclusion of the past, or the subdesertic south
Not simply of your body but the reason for its empire. It too soon disappears back into the turf.
Each of its species will increase, to touch not only its addressee, but strange nudes
Along the way. Monosyllables guard this hour of love, and the moon souths
Swimmer, although flexing our proto-limbs failed to cultivate sleep. Rather an intimate
Footing with its fund of resentment, whether it was beyond the skull’s indwelling ear bones,
Trapdoor echo, and eternal tide-stranded replies, it happened with half of the angry
Modern values. Their letters smeared, although the more powerful for being digitalized.
There is a wide selection on offer—out of the cusp of middle age—the picked bones
Of our departed founder, where the results stood favoring a glistening, poolside nude.
The result is a Wunderkammer, indeed. Through countryside as black as the sea, digitalized
Versions would not tolerate the eccentric seclusion of the past, or the subdesertic south
Not simply of your body but the reason for its empire. It too soon disappears back into the turf.
Each of its species will increase, to touch not only its addressee, but strange nudes
Along the way. Monosyllables guard this hour of love, and the moon souths
At
nine; in our hands, a dial roundly refusing to be true.
Putting aside factions of nudes
That
allow the gaze no rest, their reptilian backstories—not for lack of them cached in the turf--
Stuttering out of a leathery egg, the first grin joined with its half mirror in the piscine.
Stuttering out of a leathery egg, the first grin joined with its half mirror in the piscine.
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