My love,Calculus

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Your skin glows like a freshly picked raspberry at midnight.
It blossoms sweet as the rose in the promise of scope
when you come near me sweetly  perfumed
My yearning heart rises to your saxaphone-like voice and leaps like a young frog at the whisper of your name, Delta x/Delta y
The evening descends  as if on a great eagle’s dark wings.
I am calmed by your lingerie that I cling to  in the twilight  to carry  my walnuts.
I am filled with hope that I may collect your tears in a jug to get washed with tomorrow to save water now we are on a meter
As my buttons fall from my T shirt they remind me of your corking wit.
In the hushed eve, I listen for the first dreary wail of the autumn.
My hands leap to get my warm coat  and woollen hat away from the  ravening dogs of war
I wait with the crystal whiskey bottle for your secret calculus
so that we may be integrated and summed up
as one;hip to hip;quip by quip
in search of the glorious geometry,topology,geomorphology and spirituality,not to mention depersonalology of love itself.

A kitten in a bottle

free_animal_angels_screensaver-131729-3 My  dear…
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My cat fell off the Woof.

Why was he mating with a dog?

Because he’s politically correct.

My cat fell of the Mall

Was he shopping?

No, he’s non materialistic…. he’s imaginary.

Like those queer numbers?

Be careful.You must not say,Queer number.

So what must we say?

Numbers of the imagination.

All numbers come from the imagination.

SSshhh… we don’t want people to know numbers are a figment of the imagination.

Why not?

Life’s hard enough.

For what?

For living.

My cat rolled over me on the bed.

Was he asleep?

No,he’s training to climb Mount Everest.

My cat stole an egg.

Is he hungry?

No, he’s trying to grow a kitten in a bottle….

My cat talks to himself

Is that unusual?

Well,no,It’s impossible