i am rare arrogance brilliantly caked in sinuous batter inexorably fluid taught grime, as the invited breath of salt pillars in my nostrils. like god, like christ's woefully placarded woody drizzled body the autumn is also every sign of poesy and the imminent closure of flaming stodgy existence his season is waiting at the fore. ready to mass swiftly white exuberance snowly at the behest of gray freckled heavens long and talking paleness, in tiniest majority, flakes
flakes abounding footing the asphalt gardens and the naked arbor flesh by the lakes. by the lakes says some trees, "we are and justly so shall be, for a time longer than thou who are more temporary than we. like grass, wither succulently afore the mounding **** of time; eroding assuredly thy pink sack of viscous organisms in unnoticeable obvious certainty." and they said so, the trees, they said life and i said i said "axe"