happening takes my breath away
shape attempts to comfort me
its curvature is tonging me
with touch that has no surface
I am as if to swim
I have gliding as my speech
to let out my wings into the sky of you
simmer has a yearning as its burner as my source
my melting is a form of honesty without mind
evocative makes flash floods into my passings
undulating is the tongue-action of my existence
memories are storming the self of me as blossoms
impulse is searching for words to flag-fly
but I am only the composition of lyrics
that death will speak of thereafter
who gets called out into spoken
only has the life of now
as its livingness . . .
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