O Circle of Women! (Woman2WomanKentuckiana)

  Intense my sense is intense in the way impassioning world-ringing singing to brighten life's not-long day; 'tis no sin, I think, to so curse the brink that imprisons visions of such kind that sunlights the village's minds thus to call it love ?Why-did-I-say-the-Word? yet not absurd my wish to kiss before we're tossed into Death's Abyss. . .

 10.16.22pm1.34Sunday Face a little Fem; yet the man within whiskers whispers of his story, narrative of genetic gonzo proclivatives to male a me unwillingly-- for from the testy things twaddling tip-sy between and mean of me THERE glares a terrible tyranny, insolent violent that haunts me as FACE TO FACE interruptus makes no fake; this Fem begins from Fall from Grace, Adam's saddened sophistic seminality of first fecundity-- the Child of Eve in Her Eden, DISGRACE with furry man-remanded Face unhidden unforgiven whiskers on this looky Sister. . .

The boobs See? Show me droopingly @ Mirror Mirror against the wall the queerest mere-est morph of all who love; love makes MENTATIONS by me monstro monstrari monstravi the monster making from minus mountains: from the no thing I fashion a fancy phantom that flounders on the fact of flop. Yet should I stop the stopper of love's exlixing bottle THEN sin (so-called St. Paul's spoken) steps in AND Phun flees; sad sick psychiatry sez See? s/he's melancholy! Mind s/he left bereft jails cisMale for GrandestTheft: the Desecration of Soul in Whole, asphyxia and paraplegia of Imagination, Stagnation's end of life with strife unending of flop facing fact without a dream, dire dumb decease, self-willing Desecration. . . Mammaries thus make such milk morphology that queer-me 'magines mighty mystic Masterpiece always of love whose  end gives grief!

 10.15.22pm~2Saturday This Nth way today, to the Ohio River goes  at the beginning of learning to love again, Friend, and toward the End of this beginning I try designing conjury for Imagination's Eye as far to see a beauty whose Form transcends the Fall here near a Songsinger as I try to be encountering Thee, whose Cataract a gaze from poetry's place a-peering as I sit LoveLettering that River into which never the same afoot to step (said the Sage, Heraclitus his name); inept am I who tam`ed, sissified to love you as you need but to that brave End ever now I strive indeed. Falling at TheFalls now inagurates it All.

10.15.22am11.21Sat I waken to another You the Nth of course in that longline of Hellos; the Lady who is God in so many ways told me so bye the bye goodbyes... This time tho' MAY BE Prithee micromicro longer IFF my song to Her surrenders douses lingers that I in We may enter Moment ary merry meeting; Thus, She, I must try to be awhile that with smiles picks up the Angel when She  falls as I try as RecluseGuy not to fall so madly to Love as fool but sanely from this distant stool cheer, Dear and from this distance to chance feeling the Presence that nears immensity that can be when Love's friendly and so abidingly.

 She let me SO I spoke, trying hard to undo the ritual of ages that men and women do dance. Chance may have a step or two in this, and now I let the women weave my waltz talk and to begin to know lets me be just friendly...