separate condition, first, that you sense me
before you see me, yet as I follow you to a dense place
bellowing remarkably: then, upon blurs
let me easily take that crisp need blown from you, from
your way, by the acknowledgement; second, that you see I will
not rid you of the fullness of that, just take a bit of it from you,
what you call yourself stuck in: merely I would be
anticipation; merely, I would amount the mountains
a condition glued to what other that
hurtles your confusions before a sensation's peace
is made and assassinated
to curdle in fog. Something towering
atop a white lick.