Poetry Breakfast

The Cross
A poem by Kristan Saint-Preux

The Cross

fill the sky with these things: the creamy queme plinth of the qoph; Bouguer’s antisolar halo; iyo and rum flower mwarmwars; the saft champagne rainbows of a quaquaversal quadruple star; you body on a botonée cross (you are my christ); the translucent orange worldline quatenus (as) a quaternion of particle shimmers; quasi-stellar radio sources; a bosquet of Böttger ware stars boun above the Québécois. 

you are these things, ixtle and white coco plum. singular irrefrangible messianic light on an irremeable flight arterial; your unillusioned dark light doesn’t refract, you don’t return; you are uayeb, five nameless days of the Maya; you are uberrima fides: good faith; the Uchatius bronze glossed in yellow ucuuba butter; you heal the midas ulcus; 

tell me, baby
where’d you get those tangent sight eyes? where’d you get a soul like gray sea under tystie white guillemot colored flowers? you are a very rare egg yolk tyuyamunite, are an egg yolk hued diamond, the tylion craniometric point on a living nebula. 

nothing hides from you, you are God in tylwyth teg blue, in Type O star blue. the tonsured milk-gold coronas of an electric citrus flower; you’re that too. your soul: unending precambrian contents of jorum, with a jotnian Jotunnheim heart; you amaze me.

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