Sonnet 9

You happenstance my electric warming eyesight in your sleep my sleep, 

coincident with mild blush detaining entertaining ports of call.

Please don't be just anybody's valentine, be mine, my Everest. 

Cardboard curiosity mimes remembered steepled feats of life, rife 

with indulgent oak-toned everyday white winged exhalation, sweet

to the eye and ear and feathery domesticity now in bloom 

across unhesitating justice of womb sky painted with parsed rye.

A haptic frenzy of grain stains smarts against flat surfaces we call walls.

It's all about enclosure: my body houses your body's keepsake, 

centerful majestic beyond the sparse tones of wood hum clarinet.

Ovations ovulating tremble perhaps quizzically applause. 

Maws open wide wisdom inseminating inverse bald furnaces. 

If I were your coat of arms I'd demand to be you, not an insert

specialdom, the secret invisible sauce boss as winter leaving.