When marsh

 When marsh. It belongs to the confused of the field. The water trembles. He remembered the mountain. The high rain. It is born far from the valley. Your hands drizzle. Flowered. Scenery. The music of your lips sounds. In its subtlety. Between lines. The roofs pass. Standing before the night. They come from your chest like vibrant wings. Lovers closed eyes. In those ways of yours. In that way of kicking you out. About the silence that is made as art.

Sense, then ex-isto as hypo/thesis.