i have, twice or 1nce, or there and here, had this dream: (or once or 2ice)
a folding song of clouds by azure lungs shorn of air and vapor
amongst them walking going: an angel, young and old ministers

a scented stupid scratch of light in nights mouth abruptly quick
"how nice a thing i think i think a sorry muscle wafting

                                    verbs and nouns parentheses"

        the angel croaking slim sentences and plucking

on the          sun  a mountain against my eyes__

               to hollow in direct passion my slender aching column
and toe to head a scent of succulent silence magistrates her form
                                  how by i came and to the maw abounding
chrysanthemums a verdant pillow, with slow buds
      an autumn and a spring
where holly and emerald think in crimson berries and christ is
drooping by the wayside. it should be that winter is a cold and lovely
notion. but in my dream it is a hell...