{ Full to brimming madness
A shaded blot of tin
Flumes for eyes
And the fire to fertilize
Croaked behind the wind. }
( Patched of a day's quilt
The moths of aperture
Spirited away the dusk
To the vestal mouse
Whose heart doth thrum sure. )
[ Of extolled breath
Chambered nubility
Did shy to the hand
In which 'twas held:
Invariably. ]
/ In all paintings hung
Bereft of blemishes to sting,
Fibrin inks touching canvas
Evoke the rumbling stream;
The renascence of Spring. \
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
{ Full to brimming madness
A shaded blot of tin
Flumes for eyes
And the fire to fertilize
Croaked behind the wind. }
( Patched of a day's quilt
The moths of aperture
Spirited away the dusk
To the vestal mouse
Whose heart doth thrum sure. )
[ Of extolled breath
Chambered nubility
Did shy to the hand
In which 'twas held:
Invariably. ]
/ In all paintings hung
Bereft of blemishes to sting,
Fibrin inks touching canvas
Evoke the rumbling stream;
The renascence of Spring. \
