panangelicum

 

 

when I lick your

purple paraphernalia

 

 

through pink canyons

children come

singing

 

 

when I divide the white space

of your perfection

 

 

into the softest grids

the isolation of angels

is ended

 

 

when the moon rises in my heart

and my song is uncontainable

 

 

time is the sky

and all your ways

are bled