Zebra mussel on an august window is nice
to rub on cheeks and forehead.
Manifestations are the plums of my mellow.
I pick fruits
and hold between fingers. I am pleased to stretch fingers.
The light on everything is going to have my eyes for a long time. My urges are cold steel buttons.
Felt in suddenness.
A tall, wide eyed
hanging on my shoulders
breathes on my neck.
In a blue picture,
penguins dive one after another to save their lives
from disappearing cold.
Reddening sky of red sunsets will be of the blue moon.
Krills in a cascade lie awake on wet stones
Worms gnawing tangerine melodies
and slides down to the belly
gripping the tangerine.
Divisions of taste hang in the air. I reveal art.
Unlike my last poem. This time,
it is a mellow dream and I have let know
what covers whatever…
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