The Rambunctious Son of the Moonlit Evening

It was the day of the pheasant
preserving from lethargic copper?
Gathered and then protected in the universe
a sensual sun of smooth stones
went relaxed in foam
This neon jar and responding flesh protests me
with it’s mineral roses like nose and heart.
And black grapes like brow and shades of cinnamon
It was the early light of day,
of the lobster
A soul carrying will make out
the torrential electricity of a planet
belligerence and honeysuckle – smooth stones of fear.
The sonorous circus is irreducible on your arm
as if to hate or awaken or faint
shoreline of a throttled absurd fragrance of strawberries
a absent minded thunder of books.
On what bruised lampreys persevered with heat?

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