XXI. Avoir le pêche

XXI. Avoir le pêche

After Orpheus, Michel Seuphor’s Palpe-moi soleil, (1960) on the south-facing
Walled garden, Cercle et Carré—After the Self-Portrait (1928) of Florence Henri’s electrum
Mirrorball firing the plectrum line; the first, which is the earwig, which crosses
The peach blossom at night, before subjects of cincture, nutrice, a tree in moonlight—
In flower, its harvest jarred—Roald Dahl’s retelling of Momotaro (1960), shining
And glinting on its great curving sides, as the vitreous birdcage of Chloé (1956)—

Exposed, for a guided copy by the flock, the innermost balled chocolate foil offered to Chloe,
Who cannot reflect on it, for the cicadas, a type of swarming grasshopper, whose entire body is a violin, of burnished wing facings—
We try to hold their breath, to split during molting—For the sped through zebra crossing (1960) that catches a glint of shining
Pétanque of the future—Penetrating wavefronts returned into the medium; the electrum's
Green gold, where the fingers begin to signify the mirror and photographic apex of the triangular island crossing
Over the Milesian standard—A dew necklace of toads coupling on the roadside under full moonlight—

Florence Henri fancied sitting with cigarillo in hand; doubtless, for its deceptive size in the moonlight—
Marcel Breuer’s tubular steel and canvas seating inspired by riding the handlebars—Chloe,
Brushed with foresight, by a swallow that fetches the grasshopper in the envelope of her breasts, where their profiles crossed—
A coin can only change its object—Around the centipede’s burdensome tread; 21 pairs altogether—We read it, having bitten through silken filaments facing
In all directions—Secured to the rudder of peach stem, seasoning this before a shining
Afternoon, and a scene wrap of Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1960)—The collision that heaved the son 40 feet in the air, to land on his head—With radiant electrum

Tongues pressed into a white paper bag, to swell with blood, from three aneurysms—Electrum
Considerations go black, apart from a characteristic thread of Dessau Bauhaus—The trichomes in moonlight
Brushing down, with the drydown of balsam on needles, the nymph’s echo is cylindrical in shape, received in rounds of a hydrostatic skeleton—Shining,
Palpable, Florence, unless their intentions become overblown, places a belt around her waist—Longus’s Chloe,
Imported to Berlin (1945), and to post-war Japan (1947)—The Sound of Waves (1954), where the duplicate ordains possession, with missteps to cross
The well maiden’s abalone center, as the vespertine gather by a glowing watch face—Facing

Sharks separating the water depths from its diver, then a struggle to lift the peach facing
Clouds penned beneath the largest cataract, with the ex-lover of Gary Cooper; Florence Henri’s conversant lipstick and compact—Silver-rich electrum
Condescends its angler, the catch with blood oozing from its gills, streaking its smooth white skin—Crossing
The Atlantic, hobnailed on the pinnacle of the Empire State Building; thinking instead of spun out bowers, with the full moonlight

To pass over them, where congregating squid felt the desire deep within their pen bones—Your shining
Eyes over a sun’s breakfast; I countered with death by measles the year the immunoglobulin is announced (1963)—Chloé,

From your bureau, exhales peony and amber, the green of the daughter’s composition book; her body still warm under a curtain—Chloe’s
Elevation in a thousand zinc plates, in over 25 colors (1957) versus the swipe of despair in Bacon’s portrait of Roald Dahl (1967) facing
One being another being—Injured constructivist sculpture, after the blush went vertically upward; shining
In the spotlight—Nothing like the disposition to worm in the underground; rather, painfully, the electrum
Forge—Where saw beetles stroke their feelers; reversibly, taking the entomologist’s jointed legs until carnality crosses
Peach-like smoothness gilded with sand, Sunna no onna (1964) that children might build, percolating the moonlight—

Into a papered well; its burgeoning moonlight rivals my lamp—Rousing the open hands that seek you, Chloe, now leave her stone fruit lodgings—

Another shining flight path severed of its gulls only loved by Hekate, that peck at surfacing whales; for six, the coin’s denomination struck in electrum—

These innocents find themselves; their exertions cross at Florence Henri, in facing her Self-portrait (1938), an uncompleted adjacent frame with ivy—