Saturday, July 29, 2017
Unyielding Connections
I sense images, gently to breathe, a daughter by gavels—to claim life,
so low an anchor, at terrors to love; such complication, our rites as fusions,
to bleed acidic sweat: that casual torture, as awakened that moment, by
presence a killing ache—where silence appears, that slight so emphatic, to
rearrange a torpedo; as lived our nights, by sweltering clauses, to panic at
that sudden question; such as gladiators, that warm infusion, to feel by mystic
wells—that mother teasing, a garden of patience, while tilling our panicky
soil—where arts are love, insomuch, as death, to vow this unyielding union:
that cold valley, as trekking with silence, to arrive by eye-veins. I sense
images, by welkin wells, our cultures merging beauty: that aesthetic grin; that
feature by cues; this person that can’t be as sameness: that chilly wind, by a
private room, as to open windows—by setting free, that ladybug spirit, as
ceilings rattle; indeed, by images, accustomed to phantoms, at arrival to
witness a ghost grieving: that disappearance, as caught off guard, or
deliberate an intervention; as known by name, to shift that inner person,
accursed so long it becomes public: those careful thoughts; that angelic
wonder; such as persons to inherit fire: this intricate shovel, as digging his
brain, at present moment, a bit uneasy—to abort vengeance, as lived that soul,
while whispering at grandma. I’m sensing breath, one of but a dozen methods, insofar,
as manipulating energies: this inner chaos, as outer reasoning, while inverting
his heartbeat; to fly to grace, a coat of LED fleece, to retreat at
exhaustion—that treasure as skating, by minds an art, painting for arising
through skin. I’m grabbing mind-beats, aloofly intimate, at wails, that inner
sound—to cage as fleeting, this breath as depth, to arrive to self sparking a
clove—where passion’s harnessed, while growing and budding, so charged by
lights: that senseless ache; that profound effusion; our days a tell-sign—where
wires cross, to ponder existence, while a name slips into focus.
PS.
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