She
feels a brick that one can’t hide, to cough up a lung. There’s phlegm and blood
and particles of demons stationed in spittle. There’s for crickets crawling
through bone, gnawing upon marrow. There’s a house haunted and neighbors
screaming somewhere a psyche. Hours become snails a death a minute to
resurrect. She died this morning a struggled breath and found joy a garden of
leaves. Sooner this life!—to awaken through running, unpaused at red lights. A cist is chasing for a cyst is growing—a
storm in a market place—an agora for souls; and Greeks are skipping keys, to challenge
for logos and ever amazed to see it pathos. She centers through teardrops, as
visible as unseen, playing Brain Watch; for
ice has become spears—a mirror of mirrors—where yesterday was flowered dresses.
She longs for clarity: a witness to witness that that has been vetted: even
more, a tsunami of souls to piecemeal a fragmented brain. The lamp flickers at
sudden thoughts; plus, the ceiling is calling to a falling sky, ever an acorn
in a dream. There are mastiffs to guard a grave, where bodies crawl through sludge,
spewing flame. The life is there, a bit antiquated, a first condition. She
awakens! The Siamese cat claws an armoire, where parrots sit is sheer
silence—stung for amazed; for wind swirls the living room, a house closed and
shut; and she awakens! There’s stumbling to urinate, to reach for Hennessy, and
shatter a bottle. Beige knees kiss a carpet, a forehead to dirt, clenching a
set of palms. Something shifts through the richest turmoil, where wings spread,
to expand a ribcage. The house disappears into a silent orb, as visible as
unseen, to be granted a key for entrance.
