Shall We Walk?

Fire past a rainbow in the sound most meekly possessing,
And I will return the favor by letting go all the past shards of
Sheeting seams,
Seeming to go north without power.
Abrase my inner dutchings and
Finger into without from evil space,
Before cards made the moon and filters pressed upon your back to the mud of seeming.

Which of our times will be made to wake up over a sheet of pairs?
Which of our customs will militarize past next year’s moon?
I will downfall this oblivion until the
Cancer sucks my neck and draws all the living blood from out my skin and organism,
Smearing the cracks with brackish ooze that used to be life before time smelted its fishy swells
Into the river and into the mouth and gorge of welling, swelling, sweltering,
Banished, worsened wasted weeds of withered hell.

Volcanic ash pierces my name,
My navel reeks with heat,
My sun is a burn of infusion brought about by many layers of enthusiasm
Without dream.

I cannot spell or speak;
I cannot just or sleep.
My days of our forms and wind are gaining,
The tops of all the blades of grass ever done by morning
Will have gone, borrowed-through,
Until the ways and days of Hades’ maids
Determine out the crushing folds of waiting, seeming,
Drifting, dreaming,
Awake at the seams to unite another established bewilderment
Along the rocky coast of minder’s northern shore.

I hear the beach is dazzling this time of year.
Shall we walk?