dreamt





a





centaur





was





humping





me





I





was





definitely





outside





of





myself





the





bodies





that





matter





rarely





exist
otherwise





two





fine





quarto





sheets





stapled





twist





of





ivy






trestles





up





brick





how





limitless





one





seems





to





selves





in





an





outtake






virgins





brooding





change





blue





cloth





housed





in





gold





preserved





in





a





cloth





chemise





very





fine
someone





you





love





sleeping





with





your





open





book





the





chest





peacefully





breathing





such





intimacy





can





hardly





be





achieved





to





take





your





words





to





bed





to





hold





them





against





the





heart





to





dream





privately





with





another´s





intimations





every





book





must





dream





with





it
at





night





the





landscape





is





anonymous





at





night





the





landscape





is





autonomous





night





is





landscape





walk





with





me





night





is





language





and





I





will





night





is





linkage





what





of





you





hand





in





hand





the





night





is





harmonious
insight





you





ask





if





spiritual





it’s





then





that’s





for





to





presented





no





less





empty





space





to





we





may
gravity





blackens





wings





with





joyful





scars





place





meant





time





brief





identity





fragment





nothing





adds





up





love





isn’t





math





great





mountain





wind





came





down





cool





I





am





speaking





to





you





now



With thanks to Dan, Eileen, Ernesto, Harry, Jean, Mark, Sheila, Tom, and Vincent