mujer, mug, tejado, bosque, Alhambra, cielo
"poudreux" pastel on paper
Kissing and speaking simplicity of annoying truth
this is all a beggar should make to amuse her princess
because deep brown at the doom of grey is gold and diamond
even a pearl got from the stink of sea makes not smooth
the soothe-less almond of female cleverness better than a kiss
and some dubious stolen words of a farewell
Princess writtings are a burning hell of pink disease
the pencil and rubber of her running page
is to have a think on evil of the first age of bliss
the silence of a Miss and the noise of pissing women trigger
a shiver of memory on beggar's wealth.
Father king's poems were pretentious
never a ruler can subtlety compose aside than law
thinks the crowned bride delivered to wonder and disgust.
So is the tiger and the virgin of knowledge reserved
to less than a few, to thirty passions of a thirsty self
falling in a cross and crossing a never-ending jewell in the fall,
so is the tiger, a paw by soul, and the owle of dreame-less boobs never-seen.
And the cubes and howls of fever do the same a virgin does seem
in the dark beeing to do covered by silver tears, egyptian water on a rose,
sorrow of a male in prank-bank and thank of no sex dose.*