I love you very much.
I see tears running down
Though your eyes shine
And it seems you're forgetful.

Luck pulled you out of a hat...
Destiny took you by the hand
And Life smiled upon you
As Time waited graciously.

As dressed in paltry kinds of satin
Maya ambles through the corridors,
Carressed in faulty rinds of pattern
By her handled wooden shutter doors:

She chants with song along the matins
From my shruberry here... as afore,
Enchants the throng among and battens
On my shuddery cheer, evermore!

Like the short-lived sunrise
My window refuses to show balloon,
I pass jarring time that pours
Looking at pictures in accompanied laughter...

Like a candytuft dies
My soul flourished a dancer in tune
To a touching sound that tours
Around an imaged and gaily passed chapter...

And
Won't the doorman
Cease to see?
- The one is busy, counts to call!
And
Won't the dormant
Cease to be?
- The sun is dizzy, wants to fall!
And
Won't adornments
Cede to me?
- The pun is easy, mounts to bawl!
End.
- Wont the poor men...
Need do we?
The fun is fizzy, Hunts too small!

Slow as a growl
Go some verses from a folio,
Like little frogs in dozens wake up on a lily pad,
And I'm singing them inside.

Cloaked is an owl,
Toads converse as roams an embryo
Like fiddle logs and cousins make up on a silly path,
And I'm singing on a ride.

Float does the vowel,
Go some verses from a folio
Like tittles fog in fuzzes flakes up on an ill leafed pad,
And I'm reading them with pride!

Slow as a growl
Go some verses from a folio,
Like little frogs and cousins make upon a lilly pad,
And I'm reading on a side.

Your hand slipped away from mine
So, so cold as autumn leaves
And that cold, cold morning wine
And the handguns of thieves.

Reaching out I saw you go
So, so still as naked trees
And that same old morning glow
And the nests that hold the bees.

Bed is a vehicle
Without steer or veering wheel,
No two wings or a keel
Make a bed typical.

Coitus, Dream and Day
Inside a bottomless trunk,
You drive it when you’re drunk
Or any other way.

An eye-opener
And a commuting teacher,
Your bed's not in Future
Nor is it Past’s inner.

On a one-way road
And a carpeted sanctum,
Your bed holds you welcome
'Til your eyes become sewed.

I fell into a burrow,
Became nameless like a seed
Becomes shameless out of need.

A well of lerking peril,
A name aimless like a ****
That roams aimlessly as creed.

I fell onto an arrow.

All clean toned papers, wouldn't yellow
In November.
Tall reams one tapers, a young fellow
I remember.

I remember
A ****** escritoire that i bought
In November,
To burgeon the memoirs that i sought.

That gelid night, old day that thus shone,
I remember.
That sullied sight, no way as once shown,
In November...

In November
I got better, onto the winter,
I remember,
I got better, onto the winter.