O bridal eyes! the obessive mixture of doves in Winter's desperate grasp to retain the memory of itself and I , remaining lively in white to pass over slow, patient and flashing like a celebration film reel Set to your favorite false orchestral
I adorn the sky, whistling to lost phases of the moon, meditations on a canvas of pure noise !
May the passive cedars grant you passage to their primal love
-without its social preliminaries without its reliance on flesh but rather
a peculiar divination no amount of ****** lucidity can know