otherwise than fruits

this forest burns otherwise than fruits.
it happens in crucial veins and roots. my vessel is still unmoored after infinite knots around my nakedness. brute and still like the marble of that instant when Eros kissed Psyche on the mouth. without asking nor answering. the hands on the breasts and the lips on the lips. marble and vapor. the perspiring of the fruits and their burning far from the forest in crucial veins and roots. originating in the text of my uncreated river. you are fragile until your nothing blossoms. spring will also be fragile. how ought I to touch the breasts? with a spark of cosmic fire...