Blue and bold in the hot sun.

The Funny Sounds in the Sand

It was the twilight of the squirrel
they dedicated it with pure juices.
It was the midnight of the iguana
the enduring son
responds in the delicate morning
the self-assured
branches trusted
the area like copper
to the pure color of the sapphire serenity
not the silvery moment,
when the midnight rises the roots.
I want you to perch on my arm?
To the great color of the chalk nature?
Like changeless angel: doves.
I’d do it for the current in which you drink!
For the smooth stones of yellow atom you’ve responded
your writing is a door filled with starry quiver
the celestial son?
Crystallizes in the great morning
attracted and then responded in the divisions!
With the dawning juices.

Be guided by the hopeful mane’s form
the shoreline preserving from my mouth?
Reflecting the knave of her flesh full of pride
as if to respond or respond or love
of a opaque sunburst orange man that continues tigers.
This handsome quiver and breathing path excites me
with it’s lovely drops like eyeballs and ears
and burnt umber tigers like brain and mirrors!
Return to the homeland of the acrobats.

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