Читать книгу an inkstorm summoned under live oak we dreamed - daniel boonelight - Страница 20

to climb into the recesses of memory

where i store your sanguine soul-saving face

perfect in its listening moon eyes

and flush from earnestfelt loving

i can encapsulate every thrilling forgettal

of time and worry unto the bounty

of simply being alive and name it you

how could i let any rust of blame

for anything cancer the willing mind

when there have been cornucopias

of redemption splendored with your

fair countenance upon my daily doings?

there is so much pink and supple

to be pressed between a couple

thousand heartbeats (which is to say that)

sometimes it's only space between

in a day that paves my blinking way

to our endlessly enchanted partmeets