Byron and Browning
and Donne and Neruda
will tickle people’s noses
when I burn
but
let
my
light
heavy
bone
pollen
flour
over
my
father’s
sunflowers
yawning
newbright
face
good
morning
sweetheart
my
plump
sweetheart
time
to
eat.
When I woke from the eternal universe,
And inhaled the beauty of Donne’s Daffodils,
she breathe the incense that drew angels,
Then I knew how the nights draw my soul
And releases it too late…
The scents tells of the eternal saints….
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I love Donne, but do not have that fondness for him as you might say ….
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