Oh
for love’s sanity, to touch and be blessed, to spark into a mansion. The
furnace morphed, ever a furnace, to brain-high a furnace. Something gone—to
swarm a portal, and land afield; and ever to love it, a treble beat, thrashing
through cymbals; and more to symbols, to tap-dance a volt, and pouring like
liquids. We skate through centuries, mazing through islands, a breath away
kissing. I tell you my life, to fire a ball, to fuse a daughter; and this is
us, ever to float, as sad as petals.
Oh
for sanity, to hang the edge, puffing and pulling; for this is love, a world of
vessels, and knitted closely. I tell for storms, the lives of sinning, and
neatly this love; for something shattered, a vest for skis, a psyche’s magnet;
where heart is life, to take for music, a diamond in a lotus. I hear this
night, to struggle for day, to grip your arms; and there we fell, to nibble
loquats, to split a leaf. It’s more this ache, spent for running, peering into
mirrors.
Oh
for love, a naked lemon, as sour as rain; and more to give, trekking a race
track, and musing Sade; for this is art, to sculpt the pain, and counting
rhinestones; where voices walk, to prune a garden, a grand allusion; and there
was us, where something’s within, tugging the core’s madness; in which is love,
an oval face, and turquoise smiles; whereat is life, a bit chaotic, to search
for order. It’s less for pash, and more to spirit, to love a heartbeat.
