Zebra mussel on an august window is nice
to rub on cheeks and forehead.
Manifestations are the plums of my mellow.
I pick fruits
and hold between fingers. I am pleased to stretch fingers.
The light on everything is going to have my eyes for a long time. My urges are cold steel buttons.
Felt in suddenness.
A tall, wide eyed
hanging on my shoulders
breathes on my neck.
In a blue picture,
penguins dive one after another to save their lives
from disappearing cold.
Reddening sky of red sunsets will be of the blue moon.
Krills in a cascade lie awake on wet stones
Worms gnawing tangerine melodies
and slides down to the belly
gripping the tangerine.
Divisions of taste hang in the air. I reveal art.
Unlike my last poem. This time,
it is a mellow dream and I have let know
what covers whatever is so eclectic.
A stretched pulversion of rubies and rose and a forced
poem stand naked.
They run to you with covers and jump on your bed
and cover you
and emit melancholy from their rainbow mouths
on your head.
Zebra mussel on an August window is
nice to rub on cheeks and
You force poems
because your beautiful ones
Reddening sky of red sunsets will be of the blue moon
for a failed cyclic poetry.
These poems engulf most of you
in the night
while you try to write.
I reveal art. Unlike the last poem.
Zebra mussel on an August window
is undisturbed, breathing and humming
poem stands naked.