F • x
Nigh from Saturn’s leaves collage
Crystal fractals running in the streamlet,
Ruled by no manners, gather in secret
To sabotage a spontaneous floating corsage.
Chained tempest of looping hoots
Carrying agape’s missing cape
Take descending smoky drops shape
Which nourish a forever sleeping phantom’s roots.
Suddenly could I see and glance
A blurred orange nuance
Circling my philosophical sentinel
But could it infuse my punk kernel?
And a wild meow climbs the stoic air..
Ah! Could you and I be nature’s mystic pair?
Low-key crows join the 180º owls
To spectate a ∆ pitch of silent karaoke.
Naive junk goes arctic within blinking vowels
which is sustained by a mirrored radial croaky.
— Frederico Vicente ^•^