I
fire in spirit, this trail of longing, asking at once for sacrifice—that
mounted emblem, those benighted shadows, that myriad of women; as love would
live, this cherished citadel, our wings fashioned in lithium; to curse our
names, as to uproot our births, girded in the fierceness of faith: that torrent
of heartbeats, that ship to seas, our wails forbidden while we sit at
temperaments: that turquoise pill, as burgundy gin, to flights at whims a
certain enchantment: that terrible friend, that moody therapist, our psychs to
mysteries as proven forbidden points; as lived forever, this cadence for
Adonai, seeping into a trancelike dimension—to meet with courage, that amazing
brain, too evolved for pinkness; that tear to mind, afloat a feeling, while
flailing invisible dreams: that marvelous ache as more injunctions fueled by this passion to meet gemlike
eyes: that cagey forgiveness that
distant awareness those shoulders clutched
as approaching potential danger. I never could, for mother has died, our eyes
featured in bruises: those tall lungs, that bleeding sap, those leaves
deciduous with grime. I love spirit,
as adrift with water, to purpose through a fortress that leak through brains that exit as an entrance where abrasions heal while others form:
our deep caricatures our psalms as
platforms our music as invisible
texture; to sing for culture, this web of advice, while one softly states: Pain is killing you: such virtual chaos,
at rhythm with wildness, a bit too contained for see-through reflection; as,
indeed, a passion while trekking
through clouds our nugget-berries
seizing our loins; as, nevertheless, this filmmaking poltergeist, our days so
numbered with time—as vexation, rushing to Sedona, this place by tropes abed a
star. I flame afar, to have met a
diary, this madwoman aflame a supernova
where tentacles become essence
as valleys morph by torches
while suspension deflates into agony: that axis spinning those waves grinning our nights to sullen tears where beauty resides this test within tests as fondness becomes penchant
heartache. I fable a dream, while at
full sentence, to have experienced
abundance by spirit that element of
clarity as missing parts while at torments that evaluation of
tenets: that sculptress by lights
that energy to hearts that
revving into a furious engine; as threatened our flares, our dreads low, our
days as Nazarite(s).
