moist maneuvers
Drenched in spinal reverb...
distance reluctantly reaps its apertures - newly enmeshed
in the virtues of a flight-worn sadness.
(So the horizon oozes a shared glee.)
Barely triggered through tones that rail behind,
whose faithful madness tirelessly reasons with trust,
a sputtering jouissance flounders down an egg chamber
where multiplicities almost collide their sterility
towards a conspiracy of encounter
(that infernal tickle of the divine).
