I
take this flight and ever this life weaned from chaos to
stumble
into madness. Its soot and smaze to smog an
inner cell; and mystic this
life to center for hearts; and
what
for leaps and russet clouds to flare immortal? I
stream
as to fumble alive a perception to strengthen this
channel.
Its flame for spirit ever to converse alone a
nightmare.
It’s not for lucent as clear as soot, as pure as
infants.
Such is interior a keel for florid dreams—awake
while
singing; to know for kernel a song
and symbol
alive
this worship; and every arc a valve
of chi—beating
in
waves. What for love—to filter zeal, and raise a
nation?
She knew me an inner life, to baptize an inner
life.
I owe for light a sudden leap to ponder her person;
and
tears for zest to kneel upon grout as cultic as winds.
She’s
core aflame to perish through glory alive his heart-
cave.
I riddle for slain to stand the prow and leap for glens.
It’s
so for cryptic and soul to mind to grip a pillow. I pass
wealth a nimbus nib
structured for imperfection.
