The forests of love
You watered inside me
Have caught fire….
Albinos of anger
Are taking birth
As blaring attempts … I hear

So love! Is it some Iron Age
Town of our masters of yore (yore? ?)
That has become a receptacle of your ova?
Are the Gothic ascents too erotic to behold
O love don’t jilt, don’t go
I make paper planes … designed to carry
Any load of dreams…
Come hither and I shall carry you;
Your lover and my envy

* Someone wrote some poem on “Winchester”... the unknown city...

Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Martin

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paper-planes-2/