I See You in Streams

How to say I’ve been thinking mystic? where lanterns burn,

and rabbits nibble grass, and brockets dance for apples. I

ask—mocking lemurs, to ponder psalmic eyes. And you

stand distant, screaming: “I hate you,” and nothing is

accomplished. But what of mystic brown, a mother of

pain, screening and screeching for lies. It’s similar to a civet

refusing to eat, lost in a city, mourning a world. But keep

a mile between us; where cheetahs race forever, and fruit is

sweetest alone. Else perish communication, and ownership

of wrongdoing, where intelligent minds reason for peace and

joy. Indeed I dream, where genet poise affects a heart, and

nighthawks awake a mind; for ours is confusion, a wealth of

wants and needs, where absence enflames imagination. Thus,

protected in silence, we wrestle coyotes and fuse a paradise.