(only eight weeks later)

re enveloped,(no)O(bow)
so folded hemispherically;

flaking,    crumbing,    Love.
it is buoyant in its optimism

& kisses ideas      of sinking
Us,We are Love's ocean floor.

.nota.bene.
(it is filled with)
(jam & sugar    )

beginning.
She tilts barefoot on
                                     eve of
                                     evening
,lilting,  a pacific hypo
       thetical excerpt on

"
why(iam)here &
what(wedo)next
"

end.
it is something
of a copper wire;
    vitality.         in
the longer you lap
your legs in its terra   cotta
                                       ,the more
                                        exacting
(stringentl­ysinuous)   the scar

.post.script.
a sense of
where i amnt
more than
 where
i plant my
ankles like
two little
orange
trees.

it is honest in its opalescence.
my love listens
                        to the rising tide
                        &  the ebb&flow
my love buries itself in green
                               -bottle sand.

You, with your
                           searching
                           fingers
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
, You are missing
from Me.

"i really like you" is not all it is,
more     bellyful&hearty in its way.
so 'love' is a scary thing to call it,
no? i think Love is kindly&honest.
the 'jordiness' of it all; You are like
music i will never hear, or fashion
  i will never wear. You, always
                                         'not quite'.

yet You are hot, notcold, & Love is tall
'the jordiness of it all' is newness
& i believe We are not over yet ...
           so silly;call me in love & crazy.
You are beautiful,sweet& notyetmine,
You are,everything,but mine. as You are
in Love with him, I am in Love with You.

is a slender beauty. the
    sideways stance of
'i hope it does not
                     touch me'
(it does,though). love,
with its perfect
               nail beds &
finger knuckles.
   She will reach you
      all the same.

there is a fatness to it,
too;    
    a lying roundness
who wills She/will not cut
you. She is scarletred &
  lives in you;She is
  who you call 'living'.

reservoiry in its
volume,
               fill my lungs
time&time over. fill
  every saucer,gilded
&unstolen, replace my
air with it. She does
   not breath colourless,
but has the flow
                  of water.

in the word,'love' is
the recurring curl of
love,
&love
&love
again.
            She is the end
             & everywhere,
if i could only see Her.

the smelting eye
   of the pale morning
would close in a
   smile;inhale
the daylight between
     each fighting giggle

embrace the caring air
        of reading! take note
  of each of my bleeding
words & palate them
to taste      the true meaning
   of how i love You

every letter belongs,is Yours.
every poem i have
                 laid down to rest
is Yours&Yours forever;
   if only (the sky still glows)
               (You still read them)