| the ancient brain your sheen of sweat whets my appetites for the nights of incoherent light merging into new colours. hold tight to all my angles and I will intersect memories you did not know you were capable of. but dimly saw in a fantasy rendered in colors of solferino and pale blue. sound for me that song again, the one with only rhythm and words that work only in the context of satin and silk and scents that went straight to the ancient brain. copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv). |
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