***
Pouring its melting shimmer over the scenery yet
unseen, unheard of. The river is being transmitted on the winds of the cloud.
As it slowly spills crystallizing droplets over the valleys covered with thin,
wavy greenery. Crusting it with icy lace. Softly coating the surface of the
lampshade, crawling alongside the edges of the fireplace, kissing the rug with
the contagious ice-lace glow, spilling further across the floor, upholstering
the walls – wiry lacing caressing the window sill, the window pane. As the
octopuslike armchair opens up and fills the room with thousands of smiles, fuelling the torpid
ember, drawing from it warmth to send it further to the distant galaxies –
transmitted on the fiery / icy laceworks.
i
thought i had a dream of u last nite : in it, we spoke the language i can
understand and speak; and so can u.
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