Blue Music Dream, Poetics

study of a nude:

the H base, the plain, the double S
like from a house with no children,
bold leap inwards, from your bones
to my dreams and so forth, stillness and bad
photography, a room with a high ceiling,
parts of a collective in Rodin’s studio,
the excavation smell of your sex, draped lip,
black and brown skin, a leaning
towards the earth, weak waist, bison legs,
when it rains for two minutes then back to
a long sun, long urn, monograph, unsigned,
not seen enough of gardens and osterias,
undedicated machine, the white of immolation
doves in Mathews, a short tongue, body
spread like slow speech. a turtle
dreams she has come to hatch.
lack of hair a bardic monopoly
down down the collapsible H base,
the wizard spell of your name.

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