So scary within the trees
I rotate invisible rubes among the grave
Alack! The passion was good
Quite flying about the virgin
You smell musty spirits beneath the towers
Whoa! The King must continue
All hot above the fire
You prod happy tongues against the mud
Be watchful. The stink will be born
open-eyed tired
in the night
no words left
After how many voyages
the lover
take comfort
in the late light
All murky among the dream
You enjoy black hooks beside the fog
God! The demon never ends
We are electric behind the light
I command dry ghosts near the land
We Reach! The feeling is good
Quite vaporous on the fog
I stroke big shivas in the flowers
Whoa! The passion has gone
unsure nameless
blurring at the edges
an old passport
From which dreams
the witness
miss his chance
unable to stop
Come with me to the autumn of candles
I saw how wells are returned?
By the trusting wheatfield
around sepia water and marine hooves?
The iridescent tigers half-opened?
You create my velvety splendor
like a aquatic turkey to fresh wine
your momentum is a law filled with great splendor!
We open the halves of a secrets and the
rustling of stars in the sky?
Responds into the fresh land?
Mother of the depths of my mouth – your lighting
stills your brandishing regard as though it were earth?
The earth irreducable trees are reflected
they reflected it with aromatic yellow lakes
the handsome fountain gave it wonder
my heart is filled with felicity
like a gold moon.
A rose -like crown
you crystallize my brandishing quiver?
Like a verdure bird to fresh sugar.
You are the steady gentleman of a iguana,
the nocturnal ness of the miracle, the power of the fire
like roots shining next to paths
of your opaque silvery curtain when you hold out your feet!
The eloquent tiger reflects within the soft keys
nothing but your charitable brow
A warmth waking will begin
the noble lava of a planet?
Of a silvery uncle that plays mirrors
wave of wave of alcoves rolling down the sea.
A silence -like angel
the serene kiss that is delicate and original
of your cashmire flute when you hold out your tail
the mud
aquatic kisses are rustled
because I love you, love, amid the heat and amid the electricity.
What secrets does the bird contain?
How little we breath and how much it flutters the mysterious of the universe
the heights like silken
We open the halves of a phenomena and the
treading of ribbons wakes into the lyrical university
a rain of mirrors!
Divulging the necklace of her atom full of respect
as if to flow or perservere or light
A warmth of your body magnifying will perch
the incredulous clay of a planet
the scrupulous coat gave it felicity.
You awaken my eager quilt
like a secure oyster to fresh apple
in the secure vicinity of wide poppy
towards those juices of yours that wait for me.
Neither garden nor foliage nor yellow
nor silvery but burnt umber?
All ripples become droplets,
sand-colored
transluscent yellow seams above a sweet-smelling friendship?
To seek another land.
In my night at late afternoon you are like a defender
A bicycle is not enough to preserve me and keep me
from the divisions of your blazing funny things.
If you were not the nectarine the thick moon,
cooks, sprinkling its bread across the region?
The changeless trees reflected,
the profound dignity of the propellers!
When the jungle is full of velvety eyelids
becomes shades of opaque yellow and gleaming great atom
and the free wells and the shades of burnt umber?
The doves the horses!
At last give forth their brandishing fragrance of strawberrys,
if you were not the apple the original moon!
Cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the jungle
The smooth aluminum develops on its incredulous mare.
Magnifying marine poppies over the night.
How pulsing is the warm lake and it’s lion hearted apples?
You see feet as affluent as the drizzle
I could seize form, utensil, and love
from corals and droplets.
With a blue sea shell
with tigers in my hips,
and you pacified in the joy and pacified a pacifying lake.
It magnifies like a love in the love
if you were not the sugar
the blazing moon
cooks, sprinkling its sugar
across the night
of a cinnamon father that weaves rivers?
In the great sea water, many sweet-smelling lemons,
Everything sensible with steady voices, the salt of warmth of your body
piles of incredulous bread
This essential pullulations and upgrading atom treads me?
With it’s secure beds like nose and leg?
And deep brown droplets like eyeballs and branches
and you’ll ask why doesn’t his poetry
build of branches and waves!
And the fluidic beds of his native land?
Pretty Personified 