i will call you the census
we may swim cross the fog
and blink for moments seemed
thin and vaporous and twine
curling in a peculiar smoke
flattest lies this plane
of great green and gold leaves
that penetrates the eyes
as it feels an ocean you
beautiful and spinning
what formless shapes can i release
from parted lips that say
this will destroy you
to find heaven in the sun
may be another dimension
into greatest transcendental
for something like self-census
