(Unintended interpretations #)
Eyes fume, tongues stir,
The heavens surge
into our senses
Like blue mother's milk
words that close,
uselessly holding like water in a net
the surface and the temperature
of the purest wave of life?
this universe as far as every star
is your ripening flesh: all hail.
Behold, you feel how nothing more clings to you:
your shell is in the unending,
and there the heavy juice halts and yearns.
And from beyond a brightness helps it