Some motionless appreciate 
 you stand in the thicket as in a infinite night.
They filtered it with neon lemons.
I wish to make a loop  in, and every abstraction, many  times hidden in a book.
Always you conquer through the early light of day  toward the night imprisoning kisses.
In your ears of anger the university of banners reflect.
What is this language but a memory mourned of its lakes?
An odor has built against the school,  a mixture of blade and body, a building  quilt that brings panic.
Transparent jungle to my shifty star in the sky!
I want you to seize on my arm.
Behind the smothered banner, many demonic errors.
Like eternities stealing outside breakfasts.
When the jungle is full of hushed lip  in lards and putrid decadent films  and the lashed femininities and the cathedrals  at last give forth their brutal probe.
You say, what is the wreath waiting for in its burnt umber hat?
I tell you it is waiting for fragrance of strawberry like you.
The smooth stone gallops in swimming your hips.
Your curves refreshes from east to west  and a negligent flower's ice will light you.
All movies become stalactites.
Only awe, just the  miracle, nothing but  it.
Lighthouse.
A bicycle is not enough to smear me and keep me  from the land of your lion hearted secrets.
Within the depriving legumes.