For Karen’s Birthday

It seems we are incandescent. Whiling and whiffing. The sounds of joyous joy. We are wily when we know how to be, and wilderness when we don’t. All I can do is trust you. When shall we tryst next? We can dance scents incandescently in descent into low, lonely hell – yellow. How low can we go?

I ascend following you. G-d sent. Beauteous, beautiful, beatific your realm. Bounteous your real. Ephemera, your reality. Chimera, your realty. All of us in Israel. We divine. What have we but mindstroking? Only our hearts combined. Only our hearts. Come. Bind. We are boundlessly bound.


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