In the Nature of Joy, in the Geometry of Your Snowflake

In the Nature of Joy, in the Geometry of Your Snowflake

It seems a ballet of bridal cherry blossom, breezing April’s
photons, my Sweetheart : it seems to snow innocently, rustlingly,
and the chorale of brownish leaves of the secular, imperial
platans resounds, upon the pilgrimaged golden penguins
on the lazuline fountain basin border, or upon long interrogative
swan necks with orange stars burning in their beaks... !

And I seem to breathe those ozone molecules, my Sweetheart,
catching the fragrance amongst our thrilled, ever rubier
red blood cells, I feel how they spatialise
amongst the marble columns of a different rise,
in my peristylium – as if, in purple ranges,
our new home witnessed a denser winter and a diamond soul,
in the broad foamy-milky ebb and flow of the whole galaxy... !

And it seems unbeknown, for our new diamond-house,
from now on, my Sweetheart, I beseech you to no longer bite me
by the Pole Star, to no longer speak to me orientally, in king cobra’s
language, to no longer tear the constellation of my Lyra
with lily-of-the-valley teeth : merely kiss me as in the nature of joy,
in the geometry of your snowflake amongst April’s photons... !