Gods Garden Of Sunshine

Our way-would calling? Star pulsed, lover. 'Who's hearts a purple emperor? Teased-out of a milk-white flower' Churned into curds and whey, Whose rosy, nothingness In conclave, owlets flicker. Does intern, lead us away? Shouldn't I who am lassoed plunge talons? Like a dandelions root. Shouldn't I blow with these waxing-suns? Shouldn't I beak-split tear—apart Her gossamer: She; whom hemps a moon. Shouldn't I be the one—who? With tapper alights her inert womb. Simply put: Shouldn't I dive for pearls? Or pan loves untold-gold: No, I just won't Or can't be led 'foolhardy' downstream. 'Or be so cold or so dishonestly, headstrong. No, I shall walk faithfully loyal full-stop.' Besides you beside, deaths black-dog, On-leash as if I was just newly born. Like some kind of cocksure bullfrog Isn't this and that? The way of it all Star pulsed, lovers. The way a poets tongue must rock! Isn't this and that? Our way-would calling? God, willing… We won't all be summonsed Or subpoenaed; for that one last regret.