by Emma

unto thee i
by: e.e. cummings
unto thee i 
burn incense 
the bowl crackles 
upon the gloom arise purple pencils 

fluent spires of fragrance 
the bowl 
a flutter of stars 

a turbulence of forms 
delightful with indefinable flowering, 
the air is 
deep with desirable flowers 

i think 
thou lovest incense 
for in the ambiguous faint aspirings 
the indolent frail ascensions, 

of thy smile rises the immaculate 
of thy low 
hair flutter the level litanies 

unto thee i burn 
incense,over the dim smoke 
straining my lips are vague with 
ecstasy my palpitating breasts inhale the 

of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee 

whom i 

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