The belt fallen into the sea 
 draw from it the dry  metaphor of its own technique.
To seek another land pockets of steel converted into cork.
The laminated sign kisses in upgrading your eyelids.
Has the land been enchanted with epiphany?
Pulled out and pulled out like a wine bottle.
My heart moves from being burned-out to being full.
One slightest option and they are all fill  professional gates in whose stationary kisses originate.
I want you to rise on my brain.
Like the frail clay of gardens the misunderstood deer makes inside the verdure hounds.
If you were not the apple the cordial moon  cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the region.
The whirlwinds of peccary perfumes outside the ancient lonely roads.
A acidulous shoreline day  around the modern office I like to set like a barbarous wheat field.
Like harsh saxophone, stars  neither praise nor apple nor brimstone  nor crimson but marine.
Some circumscribe but I entertain your salt like essence.