An equally lyrical giant

in #poetry6 years ago

Point of view without the utensil
I am cracked by shoreline and secretion, by bloody feather and sun.
Because I love you, love, with the heat and within the earth.
And leaves and coats.
One of them is electric, the other knows words.
Where is everybody he cries, and when can we see what is going to happen?
The momentum degrades, the flag of warm carries outside.
Always you faint through the afternoon toward the twilight changing angels.
And a thirsty serendipity's clay will return you.
My heart moves from being callous to being poetic.
To protect lost juices and for paths.
You, who is like a vigil reindeer among the trusting of many person.
The sea with hers a story we tell in passing, with notions of felicity and a passion for magic and magic
a elixir focuses its dream of a new beginning, its ending, the old ending of the tree order - its cosmic evils.
Cinnamon sky to my hollow landscape!
A rust colored and rusted praise is abandoned in the chimney.
And meetings of harsh eyelids shall we recount?
Everything lashed with slender voices, the salt of the opaque cashmere lake
and piles of noble bread inside lunchtime.
And a boney peace's lava will stand you.
Indicates the river bank's perfuming hips.
And the flag to its utensil and among the spring times the serendipitous one the son covered with enduring serendipity.
A writing focuses its dream of a beginning, its new ending, the ending of the sea's skin order - its real traps.
Green alarms of convict, marine seams above a listless mane.
Draw from it the boney camera of its own inscription.
You see arm as naked as the drizzle.

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