Past the Sanctum

From when it is mundanely cloudy,
  that long pause
of the balcony
   clinging all by itself
to the murmur
   of the passing wind...

       underlying
  concoctions to which
    my ears
 are as rhetorically irrelevant
   as licked spoons
 
   i stagger irretrievably
past,the usual
  scrimmage,about
 the infinitely heightening
     pleasures of
  watching the neighbour
   lady milk her tits...