I love the weather
The scene in nervous snapping
Rocks rise in a rain bearing bridges, chairs
The emotions follow...watchful
My desire is dragging direction to say this
The pen is a nag
The bulb crackles
The sky was never a chipped ceramic
Bulk is brightened by collapse
On my skin are a million lozenges
And outside are stalks of dirt upon inspection
Dimension and longevity--they raise ridges of
description
Here are Rock-drop and Asylum, almost alone
Poem, or ragged prose
The pulse is not an omen of rhythm to come
Pedagogic love
Learning is like poetry-an uncalm practice
It makes the promise of unlikeness and discipline
I love a trilling bird with extended dawn
vocabulary
LH
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