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unto thee i
burn incense
the bowl crackles
upon the gloom arise purple pencils

fluent spires of fragrance
the bowl
seethes
a flutter of stars

a turbulence of forms
delightful with indefinable flowering,
the air is
deep with desirable flowers

i think
thou lovest incense
for in the ambiguous faint aspirings
the indolent frail ascensions,

of thy smile rises the immaculate
sorrow
of thy low
hair flutter the level litanies

unto thee i burn
incense,over the dim smoke
straining my lips are vague with
ecstasy my palpitating ******* inhale the

slow
supple
flower
of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee

unto
whom i
burn
olbanum
Audrey G Oct 2017
Something is missing says the
white cozy room. She was tired
says the empty coffee cup on a
pile of old dusty books by the black
backpack. She had worked all night
creating a new thick book, says the
lonenly large pen with almost no ink.
She need sleep, says the un-made
bed; and she was cold says the hut
wood in the big chimney newly off.

She had a rough week. says the
aspirings lying next to the blue bottle
of water on the night table. But she
couldn't stop reading my tory, says
the book open half way. She needed
to relax says the cheesy music station.
Tomorrow is the first day of winter
vacation says s the school books and
papers on the black table like
snowflakes in winter.

She needs to start thinking about herself
says the black window with a view to
the lonely and large swing int e small
backyard. Also to believe in her dreams
says the white pillow in the bed. She is
beautiful as well as her name says
small diary. But she doesn't think that
way says the rectangular white mirror.

She loves to laugh says the picture
with a lot of smile people in it. She has been crying lately, says the blue box of Kleenex. She had the power to
get ut back says the slight strips of light
passing through the window. Something
was missing the white room says.

— The End —