NOW that i flew by fierce few
sabots language trickling
and in the morning's red eyes
my heart picks rosenbloom
   picks blue berries upon the side
   of the road of Life while i sweat
picking love by the fingers wishing water
like i dreamed of a woman (but if i
should say, 'hold my depleted lips
wishing water'  i wish and pray
as a common soul:  but begging
cups of water to spoons dance
every-
   hands (you know lust)  a spring
of Life:  this most exquisite
of all loudness:  strumming a guitar
singing any language above the notes.
   and this imitation resembles
the humanity of flesh.  thinner
than a hair of silently who are we
inclinded and cling towards the greatest
poem of my heart -- me.

:: 09.08.2020 ::