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