Man in a coat. Encompasses a poem written within the air, he walks the laurel yellow groves on side city streets, picks autumn leaves with maple trees permission, he pockets nature’s poesy.
God is in his mind, the early winter winds have him petticoated, pocketing, prescribing litanical resurgence in the city of day stars. So flowers swirl round his step, his keep is contemplations in his own coat, greets them easy and cooly when he sways forth and foreto smooth, notwithstanding the mutterings in his mind; only if they knew what he keeps in his petticoat.
He’s cordially swooned by birdsongs, women with bright blue eyes pass him by and by; but oak ring eyes, maple and ash avenues of midnight river hair in his hands, he only thinks of her, she’s the swirling petal, the lipping poem in the air he cannot re-conjure.
He’s deeper in his petticoat, constellating gold filigree and linen thread lights, lactating the milky white tongue tonight, he spills stars in her, he’s purer streams within – within his coat; an interior temple: the principal within or the prince of pull within.
Petticoats got diamonds embroidered in the inside. Lines inside the pyramids, image in turquoise step, the city skyline, gold tilt felt and riddled point per line. He smiles into the sun, serving one jewel of God.
His insides grow into the coat, imagining himself, embellished manifest in the pyramid pattern of time tick tocked, woven in and his coat. He’s lived into our interior temple. Manifest opportunity put out and wore receptivity into eternity. He’s smiling into an orange pink sun setting, glow of golden smiles in his hands, limited edition, embellished explorer, dedicator of silence to it.
It’s the coat of skin we wear, people probable to pass, perchance ride on in, wear with us God’s eternal manifest, fashion us our safe leave, our unlimited.