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...