following quintus; we entered instantia via the box beneath the stairs

frequented ions

climbing to the edge of the wall
he realized
the moon does not rise in the morning

the silver lever, left and right, arching left and right

ovalune spectruum;

a distance skipped in its focality.

i had not known

he sensed it too

we wo'n't need to remove the umbrella

the brick textura opened into a gardened space

botanically sparse

yet spectrally aromatic

seasoned oars

because there is this flux
a particulate momentum
in non-patterned oscillation

matte

matter
matters

finding necessity in

an anglular pause
a mood

ascending tiers

as imagined

greeting our passing

the pulse of swaying bells

from the park none of us would have known

being here

and knowing that we had been there

tonality

words i did not need to understand
his silhouette; canted right leg
and a line drawn in the cobble stone street

this is more you

so it became apparent
soft clouds and the other upward view

there is no cieling

when the dream ended there was still the whirring of the vespas
the inaudible foriegn chatter
and the damp outline of my body
a conveyed sense that i had remained here

crossing into another section; consumed by the fullness of the transition

spatial exposures
with structurally scented cured meat

like the trees i had seen

the levee is set
all you need is that silver button

the staircase to

yellow flowers
and black cats with yellow eyes

fifty eighth

i thought i'd find you here

one over three

the first establishing the tempo for the rest of the body

heightening observati

semi-audible whurring
on a triangular section
when the afternoon allowed us due negroni

via separation

like i had seen in other perforations
circular moments
as if churning some impossibly finite number of thinned lenses

streets signs on a hill that neither of us could read

the color had been there
but this was a varied form

in the manner that they know each other; pino

a warm smile

and the warm smiles that surround

we climbed into the hill

making a satellite connection
as if a telegram;
thank you nana

knowing less of the distance from here to yesterday

the narrow alley opening to a river

with our pace like the sky; advancing

positioned meandering

the lower reverse
into bristled fluidity

fractional shudder speeds

of antennal (re)collecting

warmed canvas tones

winding below
mer chatting

from beneath another sky

spectra cotta

... that is where we shall meet you

i met them where they usually sit
where she did not expect to find me

and when the shock turned to a hug
we slipped through the narrow passages
on our way

nonscreened

brick lined petals
ascending the half sphered circumference

speckled panels

r(h)inged periphoria

and the diffusing whorls

of slow release

the field

an unknown focal length

and the six windows are now one

our words seep through the frame
their path as before
an oscillating pace to the moon

the hill became a river; so we swim

when the tea cups grew dusty

and the oven knobs no longer twisted

we drew up the spacial remedy.
pulling at the four corners we had known

and rolling the contents towards clouds in the upper east

to unpack the things of those chromatic boxes

and hold again the pieces of our draft