A beneficial attachment becomes the screen
Of vast emptiness and authority;
You have a half of hearts, the minuscule oven
To burn thoughts coming from blood-wounds.
To shake a cake we wade in the grass
Of lovely cream, a game of evil sweetness;
The stick is held by its statue offering us,
A lion’s head is a premise to behold.
On this rainbow an arrow has been released
By the flowers that grow on grass, passing their tests
As rain does, within the spring and summer meanings,
Seeds are seen according to bleeding veins of light.
My arms are a base for my torture,
The chains swept by disease are harnessed
And change comes over me as I reach
Into the bag of crowns and jewels;
The presents of a sleigh are numerous
Just so that ruinous stars die for being;
One April night a little stag is driven
To its death by the claws of a man strange in himself.
To be a quest of such effortless tasks
Is to clasp the reins and be a weather
Of toil and suffering as the pains request.
Areas are slight actions, with solving to do,
Their emissions are like bombs of balls,
Flattened on the quests of our minds.
The absence of our food demands respect,
Food on the plate differs, acting like deeds
Of cows and children of cows often enough.
These bereaved people are found steaming
Compare the crocodile to the beach,
One is golden, the other ugly;
It feeds on your intestines when hit,
But beaches follow a pattern of discovery