Sentimental Progression of Unchemical Love
Lawrence Atkinson, Still Life, 1919
by R. Reiss
This is the cataclysm. The woods exhibit a compassion for colors, regardless of the grey grasses. Concessions of magnanimity astound a red soil, recollecting the fontaine puissance. One accompanies an excessive thought when the realization comes of countless oranges and sums, the ancients say.
You are bending isoclinal to the temperature of moons — and this a stenographic panorama of romance. Hi, hi, the fool stertorus, the morbid activity of cartiledge in some astral france.
One muses on tactile fabrics as over leaves. They are a marginal annotation on an internal dream. Electric wires pulsate in thin-lipped rooms, where a witch passes through on a memory of brooms.
Mastery of conscience depicts an aptitude for chance, in the murmurs of a coagulated dissipation. To a boy it’s the mud on a girl’s breasts, when the passion deliberates into age-long delays. Dripping frankincense about a female soul. We still shall know the multiplicities of rectitude in greys.
About the Author
R. Reiss wrote for The Little Review.
First published in the May, 1918 issue of The Little Review. Presumed to be in the public domain.
First published in the September, 1919 issue of Coterie. Now in the public domain.