from the plains drawings of smudging hands and the palms of warriors whose caves glittered in symbolic otherlands flowing into yesteryears with shifting tones abstracting melodies awry in the songs of language growing, from the blood of worldly pains and passionscapes of grounded glees which surge in transtemporal veins,
to the gifting of a poem;
cosmic movements ever novel in the constant flux of fleshy presence follow us in meaningβ every dot and cursive plane, carries more than caligraphic feeling beneath the graphing of our patient, formal, brainy gestures (often blind to fools in Spring and better fates of wholly kissing lovers over flower-oaths) whose blindness in such sightly feeling, graph so many moments black: syntax, manner, unformed poems of wisdomβs grandeur; stifled in the academic dust.
9:30 pm above: praise gone awry. 12:52 pm still, this universe expresses its possibility through this minute verbia; prolix trivia swinging by the inquiries of existential mania and the hope of solid, open value.