By
interior motion, to affect another’s physiology, while soundless waves
agree—this texture as cold silence, while evolved as creatures, to utter
contention—that steep definition, as cried by sharks, to examine existence—that
welkin ear, those sky-nostrils, that whiff of insanity—to languish while at
motion, this terrible frustration, as sipping for immediate closeness—this self
of virtues, while esteemed a miracle, to have for eyes this sense of dying: if
but to crosses, while living by bread, accustomed to creating rituals—as but to
fly, while psyched within, by rites to influence another’s cadence; this grit
to persevere, as becoming by alikeness, as but a dream that refuses to awaken:
that subtle curse, as rejuvenation, a bit to loneness those silent hours: our
showering brains; those fiery ventures; that culture of children newly
oriented. It comes by curiosity; to arrive by intervention; where one becomes a
vehicle of driving forces: that painful feeling; that wearying silence; or such
by allegiance to become by prisons—this sharing of souls, as steep as oceans,
to alive a desert-sky; that pinch of madness, as craved our arcs, while just
enough to saneness; where portraits melt, as pictures speak, engraved by
ruby-pained eyes—that mucus dripping, those chains rattling, by crows a pile of
vultures—to extinguish justice, or to clone fires, while at dreams attempting
to cage silence—this place as foreign, to emit a frequency, by aches a man
lethargic for weeks; as deep affliction, this karnac space, as dreary to utter
and cagey to sentence, while visions are sore, and permanence seems to have
breath. Our deer ganders, while grazing on lies, as becoming this unsighted
monster; that space of intelligence, our human heads, our bodies at flux with
dragons: (Those deep fires, as changing electricity, to feel by essence those
shifty currents; to know affection, as affected by reaches, to disguise this
portal in minds. Our thetic richness, so consumed a verb, to love by nouns—this
achy sentence, at once to hear that voice, as now a plethora of metaphors;
while silence grinds, as shivering bones, our moments to losing agreements;
that sore as leaking, that brain as shifting, that volt that split his
hemispheres): if but to love, as falling into acres, where brilliance announces
immortality: that special allegiance, as so to perils, while to know for
certainty an inner cadence; by days of activity, to come to that easy chair, at
terrors to fall so deeply.
