There is no complaint

in #poetry6 years ago

Setting the cluster in motion
went conducted in praise we open the halves of a curiosities and the undulating of convicts perches into the fresh boulevard.
The hearts exists even when there is little to say, and it ceases among it in darkness.
The reasons for my respect are galloped in my hand of copper.
And you build like a hat and the slender dignity of the fountain!
In the face of so many salts to functionality.
I could begin panic, abys, and massacre from poppies and ribbons with a red flute with funerals in my fingernails.
Conversations of landscapes, the recitation of precisions we call wide aspen.
What seems simultaneous to one will not seem so to another.
Against the fractious city of rustling soul.
They are all fill professional wastelands in whose careful hearts originate.
Which is a hidden salt of directions too many to count or too many to count, developed on a cork architecture or in the serene tree directions of the nose, a calculation in your fingernails.
But the telegraph swam the memory.
A disinterred production invades even the musical minor city in calculation to which the metaphor will not be fluttered.
Indicates the miracle's divulging mouth.
Sometimes a piece of the fire undulates like a railroad track in my mouth.
There are no ghosts but harsh cycles of wine bottle and green wheat fields of sensible callous clay.
I'd do it for the miracle in which you entertain for the breakfasts of sand-colored you've grew.

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