25, July 2020.
Moving from a state of friction with stars in your eyes is more admirable than adhering to limitation. Pessimists and Philistines know nothing of the sort—they're too busy expecting oblivion. But not you, right? Please, not you.
Ardours rising fro the flood,
Graveward drought; homeward draught!
Wondrous spirit summit blood.
My daisied day's eye; blitheful craft.
Are the dreadful cardinal seconds,
Before beclouded tangles kiss—
Goodbye! Ivory towers beckon.
By— the ironclad abyss.
The purest rays under-moon,
Charm the soul astray to sight,
The threadbare songbird; softest croons—
Ring horror on the thieves tonight.
Forget the world with me, warmest friend,
Ho hum saltscapes free the tongue.
Hugs the sound and grows again,
The music of the heartened lungs.
YOU ARE READING
POEMS
PuisiThe softest cradle, most unfavorable in such a great reservoir, so I've opted for a second collection. Let's say goodnight to the genesis and wave for the forthcoming sun.
