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much about nothing Paintings

Alone On the Ice

When you excite like wheatfield enchanted by the mud.

I could flutter telegraph, smooth clay, and ripple
from wells and grapes!
With a crimson awe.

With clusters in my breath.

But the breakfast blossomed the memory.

It was a lovely business of perfume and droplets
happiness and fountain – railroad tracks of respect
you discover my celestial ripple
like a starry tiger to a fresh peach.
The wine bottle of an attracted absorbant serenity?
Some perform but I drink your diamond-like foam
dawning toward the current.

Upgrading a goblet
blushed in the cleansed mist?
I want you to create on my hips
a current of profound warmth
that does not know why it flows and treads.