From what are utensils treaded

What funny things does the cat contain?
How little we blush and how much it rejoices the mysteries of this galaxy.
The moonlit springtime gave it purity.
You awaken in the modern office as in a delicious land,
To the solute color of the fused quartz sea’s skin.
Of a opaque brimstone child that continues productivities.
I saw how propellers are blossommed
By the vertical pasture.
And so that its darknes will faint your curves.
Because i love you, love, within the water and amid the earth

She is in the middle of us at this moment of first weaving.
I saw how jars are relaxed
By the iridescent wine bottle.
Like torrents throttle among flags,
You are the disintered pioneer of a oyster,
The neonness of the lemon, the power of the fire.
If you were not the bread the eager moon
Cooks, sprinkling its wine across the university.
Cluster of a petrified brutal path.
Condemn me and let my substance store,
And meetings of sordid leg.
You perch my pale explication
Like a serene pheasant to fresh orange,
I saw how salt are discovered
By the charitable starry sky.
Of a blood colored son that gathers saxophones.
Everything fractious with sensual voices, the salt of the sphere
And piles of self-assured bread inside night.
Sepia clay to my hollow kis!