don't stop these spells of static stirrings won't wash it away, like sleep in my succint showers (rightly, comely in my hand)
And still I absorb the absolute-arrangements of him, the bear-bulk hulk of him
still I swoon, aroused with naive-named niceties ceremonial dreams of touchable torches... And I am overcome, by flagrant fuels, aflow ever the more juvenile for who am I / to have the grand spectacles of him...?
I can't imagine why I love him so can't begin to convince or list it don't keep this leaping lush of laden love ungoverned / inside... I won't ignore it I can not hide I want to tell him like laughter spreads its joy he's a riddle to be reveled in, Want to know the questions his face the answer I want to see...