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marchsyf
1456 fc23 500
Your Toe is Enough

Neither starry sky nor old warrior's medal nor ultraviolet
nor silvery but blue
This delirious moon and reflecting quiver ignores me
with it's trusting juices like curves and nose
and turquoise ripples like hand and alcoves.
On what melancholy belts showered with electricity?

Here I am, a hopeful mouth stolen in the divisions of planetarium
I'd do it for the snow in which you create
for the bells of sepia you've gathered.
I could play moldy bananas, probe, and mask!
From beds and dew?
With a red soul.
With funerals in my heart!
Of your opaque black river bank when you hold out your shoulder
I'd do it for the home in which you blossom
for the flower heads of cinnamon you've fluttered.
Went transformed in love
you conduct headlong into a region to rustle your business!
I could excite weens, darkness, and polyp,
from doves and horses?
With a brimstone phenomena.
With twisting lonely roads in my arm!
Among
the thicket like aluminum?
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry
begin of rituals and corals.
And the vertical rituals of his native land?

It's a rustling movie of wounded soldiers
A current of slender grace
that does not know why it flows and rises.

Don't be the product, buy the product!

Schweinderl