leaves and patter


And bearing straight station to station we came on a strata 
I wanted to be a mist no body any longer able to enter leaving 
left entering  the question mark utilising  time its non-egoic bliss

And that time the mountain came down
her hair curling ribbons along the clustered grapes
fronted the hair-line crafter by the sainted tint

everyone upon a name heard you coming daring 
to suggest it meant everything that could be  and like that
we came around the corner not eh like, not like, like ah,  like ,

Not like at all but everyone the same
a drifting leave sanding over the louvres bending
forward the train rigging its common thrust

better by far than the other its fortune readied mastered
humdinger to a million or more gold bullion to the wave
of her thigh

I stood there transfixed asking me she asking me how
are you doing? and my heart paralyised a wax solider I explained I was not comfortable in that situation Les Temps Modernes 

Maria: 'taking off' her  panties looking up submissive to greed grief
and the gilded craft warriors of self
handing me the wrong hand sticky cards lady

and she wont see Reason her best ally a trunk suit
along navy benders ship breaking up the water the
waves hurling their Herculean wavefists forward 

welting the sea with its marks        ~