Writing Straight with Crooked Lines

Would that my poet's heart could fly, but an artist's anchor is his eye. I still see the magic in mere flesh, so a humble fate is mine... Your form shall be revered, my dear; I pray you never need to fear, the passions flowing deep within me as we struggle down the line... From fruits of base attraction, sweetest sensual transaction- God may grant us gifts beyond what we can define... Let's raise a clutch of saints, my love, a brood of little lambs, my dove, offspring who will far surpass us as they evolve the design. 3 June 2024