In Confederates we Couple

1 November 2017

(Q.E.D.)

To speculate on compound vision, the world reprizes: one and one is one. Each arc of a lover’s conjecture creatures toward incendiary light. The soul’s algebra draws upon an angle of landscape at once perishable and precise. We sup on the circumference of a single Brain with warm Logarithms for Drink. I admire the turn of a plump Binomial Theorem flush in your hand. Furnished with concave witness, we talk hesitating fractions, intercede in hunger’s ratio with iron buds. This ear’s more than average, less than storm clouds with their pressing sleeves. What was omitted by mistake? What proofs made Area the shore? The consternation of bell curves in gulf-stream forecast. Neighbourhoods airing their heat as Climbing seconds play. Copies upon copies in satisfied labour, suckling on leaves of chiffon. Curtained diameters soon become mouthy in a degreeless Sovereign noon. You knew that each syllable was reversible; sprung forth swift regardless. Tiptoe Amherst, court your meteors wisely. Neither the Day nor the Tongue remembers the process by which we first became series.

 


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