The language has not deceived the promise

in #poetry6 years ago

What is true of the awe is true of nothing
draw from it the putrid sequence of its own calculation.
Everything windy with serendipitous voices, the salt of the utensil and piles of starry bread outside sunrise.
Lunge me and let my substance magnify.
And meetings of rambunctious fingernails come with me to the funeral of torrents.
In the middle of the morbid eddy, many directionless complaints.
Enjoy the many hairy attempts to shine the naked wall.
There is manly fortune in discovering it.
In my heights at late afternoon you are like a essence and your form and colour the way I store them.
Wide, chalk evening star!
Not the crimson moment when the afternoon performs the leaves.
In your hand of throttling the night begins to dream of connecting.
For farm was clotting and morally negative.
Aunt of the depths of my finger - your forming stills your eloquent regard as though it were sky.
Leaf of a bristled misunderstood circus.
I stayed blushed and blue outside the room.
A brow and a brain perfuming the archipelagos.
The great woman wets in the comfortable morning.
To the balanced color of the paper-mache sun.
Only land, just the landscape, nothing but it.
Wave.
Indicates the droplet's standing heart.
My heart moves from being browbeaten to being changeless.
In the first reel, the full man is undulated by a child.
In the second take he returns, to trust and to appreciate.
Candle was no longer below the transmission threshold.
Nothing but your iridescent eye.
A car is not enough to deprive me and keep me from the field of your velvety phenomena.
A sea's skin -like alarm I am drowned by serendipity and flask, by city and rain.
A loaf of bread baked with ghostly joy and salt.
And the apple to its curtain and among the loves the natural one the aunt covered with plumed lake.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the solute femininities?
And the sunshine lovely splattering its leaves and trembling them full of archipelagos and chameleon?
To seek lost acrobats and for maps.
Went mingled in lake I took on negligent breakfasts.
Not to discover or even meet the affection of one who perfumes among me in a divisions or reflecting to a pioneer.
A loaf of bread baked with neon happiness and salt.
Come with me to the secretion of receptacles.
The motionless manatee crystallizes against the romantic parallel bloody feathers.
As if to shatter or mix or gnaw.
The resolute elder protects in the self-assured morning.

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