I Was The Owner Of My Own

To Love Is To Tilt With The Lightning, Two Bodies Routed By A Single Honey's Sweet.

Like Them You Are Tall And Taciturn, And You Are Sad, All At Once, Like A Voyage.

Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots?

Ah, Love Is A Voyage With Water And A Star, In Drowning Air And Squalls Of Precipitate Bran; Love Is A War Of Lights In The Lightning Flashes, Two Bodies Blasted In A Single Burst Of Honey.

I Am Made Of Earth, And My Song Made Of Words.