The Man, Paradise, In An Emotional Greece

Weeping lights from
Cassiopeia's Core.
at this Wedding,
        lakes dry up,
while grapes martyred
with holes, Leak
their Whispers.
                "On guard!"
someone in Wrinkled cotton
Abrupts. ...Had this person
seen fit a Stroll
perfumed road grit,
He'd rub his hands and
Tongue the grapes.
        Clouds in their night life
Tonight make a Nucleus
  of the moon - No shame.
        Implicating stitches
of Invisible-ink-rapid-eye-movements,
        He's Wed the frail Acoustics
        (still leaking) by arch by vale by
pulse by press by teetering entente.
This ornate,
montage engagement
takes place Over
impossible canvas.
        He thinks:
"next time i'll
this road's perfume."

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