(rough draft of an image whose style will be pertinent to my project)

from pine to palm, the expanse rang with silence.
Except for occasional squares of buildings, the outdoors
persuaded one of a certain ancientness, the one
that either spurns lovers to consummation or jealous
men to murder. It was a mysticism of the earth,
the sky holy as the self-gathering of a
the first protobiont, like many beads of rain
magnetizing to each other, pulling in towards each other,
leaving shards of water only for those who
couldn't make it into heaven. the dawn and day
were equal in loveliness, while the dawn
would be more lovely in remembrance with its corners
scintillating with strands of light
practically interlocking, how when closing
your eyes the only thing within your own
solipsist nothingness was a a morphed-to-purple
outline of the sun. Everyone was lonely,
but only for a moment, and then they slowly woke
and flattered each other with their company,
proving that even the weakest redemption
was available even to those of weaker merit.
Slowly, the crowds shuffled from their rooms,
growing in number and thus apparent absurdity,
more women then men, and more men than
could be handled by the women.
The men were, as far as could tell, simple,
thinking the same thoughts,
how they needed that resort away from the resort,
whereas the women's thoughts were bouquets of
diverse expectations for their husbands, fecund
only in the straightforward masculine soil of desire.