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A golden brilliance in broken bowls

Their beauty a garment of God

What does that matter for truth

Independence etched from disobedience

Yet an interpretation of those shadows

With eye ruined by salty wounds

Is bound to hopeless love

Phantoms demarcated by duty

The spray of the wind from the west

Captures as amulets rolled back

Down to the unspoilt land

Innocent rustics polish the residue of hard work

They glance at heaven with more ease

The man with the interrupting face

Agency lost to

A piece of Arcadian land

There I am with quiet pleasures

Associated from inhibition removed from

Memory

Through a sleeping mouth

A dark seed coughed

A pit that threatens to gaze back

Embellished by the serpent with an

Induced torrent to move

Ascension

Atop the quivering mosaic of grime

The perfection of death billows through

Sweet grasses

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The painted hero

Accompanied by the hummingbird

Who lived within the nest of souls

Exiled to a defiant star

Where the wind split the sky in two

And the moon was confused with the eyes that gazed upon it

The cosmic waters which have eaten storms

A mea culpa

For is it not the feminine which travels into the forest

The unavenged embodiment of passion squeezed out the last few remaining tears that journey left in

The demiurgic adornments and ornaments that dug the trench

Below rest

This myth does not inspire a verdict

But instead a creative indifference

A name, curiously eponymous with a novel vexation

Could we not imagine a world without color, fragrance?

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My proclivity for love came

Disarrayed

Like constellation with no pattern

Their position ouroboric in nature

Flexing, enduring, like

Recursive, meandering discourse

But of course it did

For what did I have to mimic but the vulgarity of an impression

A concept, a thing without meaning

To what seat is owed for bearing

A reduction reticent, but not without motive

So I shed

And what is deserted is decorated

Vehemently hung with seeds

Could you have reestablished their order without ethereal aid

Both divine and mechanical

Drawing on those long limbs

Lines that I would learn to topple

Belonging to the world below

Your heart is in my mouth right now

And could I wipe the sleep off

Throwing light at your divine office

For what is paradise worth

If not born to destroy all the world

I assure you that I am on the way

Arriving with weapons of a celestial sport

I gathered them from the sea

And although already driven mad

That terrain, the fauna tormented, the flora assaulted the very act of being

A performance that proceeds recognition

The iron of the earth

Although hot must be cooled

And how the temperament of the water is stained

All through

May I too bathe in

Your honeyed refrain, in your glass coffin

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Architecture is displayed in quivers and arrows

A parody of the enigmatic emblem of beauty and rebellion

For girls who reside in glass houses

Have learned to throw bigger stones

The slow gloomy epilogue of luster

Saturnine in nature

An evocation of the unique nobility

That is suffering and renunciation

A womb devoured

May we re-collect a calamity

And return to ocean’s halls and

The palace of beams

A nectar vignette

Imparted by the wind

Although in systems as discrete as these

The reducer only exiles the liberated

Managed by the indwelling spirit

Exiled to the sought for the interior