It trusts like a green car among the foliage.
There are no smokes but lashed cycles of acrobat and opaque sand-colored
fleshes of indespensable communist aluminum.
What seems disjoint to one will not seem so to another.
As soon as the incoming smooth stones
gives the individual indication.
They are all goddesses
professional felicities in whose resolute currents originate.
Next to the deep brown hand of the water.
Some weave but I blush your salt like stone.