Holy Grounds

Thinking becomes trespass, as warranted confusion, by chaos a clear intuition; to come to rivers, to kneel a palm to Adonai, this Buddhist gazing: our psychs ticking; this pendulum winking; that pendant a symbolic symbol; that mystic crying, steeped in Bhakti, this synonym for devotion—to conjure by goddesses, or rapture through Krishna, at horrors to divorce our centerpieces—that torn neuroses, as more immortal fuses, a generation of warriors resonating: (Enough at that!).     I sung sadness, courted our gravid moon, at terrors such horrifying beauty; to need by charms, arrested at souls, while never a silent kiss: such wishful thoughts; while lacking courage; to want but love those seconds; as fleeing with time, accustomed a new adventure, our Lanterns running by oils: this inner legacy; this gracious dance; our mirage treacherous at tongues.     I met a yogi, as silenced to words, at meadows baptizing brooks: that sacred feeling, as a soul to powers, to mettle our cadence.     I blinked a gesture, to embrace a volt, such as calmness becoming contagion: those miracle miles; our psychotic smiles; this love for something revolting: our seeds bleeding; our mothers to chaos; our fathers that last beer—where gramps muses, our grandmother’s terror, melding with mirrors—this horrifying event, so tragic our gains, buffed for washed with Tide-thoughts: (Thinking becomes trespass, this needed feeling, to arrive as liquid fire—those tragic insights, as vetting through fantasies, where mystics rapture into torments: our neurotic realities; as pure fusion; this resonance with myriads: to venture evidence, this difference in textures, to denote this variance in sources; as, nevertheless, a man enchanted, as struck a nerve, to never but die such kindness—this pregnant force, at god-speed, as electrical as power-plants: those brooks morphing; that mother to tears; those English teachers at resonance—to die as cultures, this extinct as extant, metamorphosis by brains—to carry sullen-sparks, that frightening deepness, this tragedy we share as triumph).     We come by treacheries; we live by luxuries; we invest becoming but a scar to mind-skies—this immortal character, to find through nuances, this captive city rummaging through our souls—to resonate as students, where one is far equipped, at horrors to confess our novitiate status: that flower by freezers; that neon-blue water; that fiddling by red pills—as temporary sanity, returning to blocks, flavored by a suggestive Ink blot test—that tropical tragedy; that immortal death; our nighthawk mentalities—where mother lives, as dying daily, such as pleading forgiveness—to renew that passage, as bleeding his brains, where introjects reside in intensities—to have that cadence, but iguanas through deserts, but sea turtles at travel—seasoned as captured, this newness to innocence, that fuse with such womanly appeal; as never a thought, or ever a thought, fiddling a mistyrose.     We fever as living, involved our trenchant thoughts, this thing for children for beauty—as finding this presence, our essence splattered, our parts seeping into humans; to cry our names, as bleeding this passage—so dependent upon receptivity—those mystic sea-greens, our olive prayers, this medium blue orchard.     I could to cry, infused by dreams, to rejuvenate daily: our incremental(s); our interdependencies; our intra-independence—as flurried with curses, too wise for naysayers, too convicted through experience: this house of legends, that exotic flower, to see it wilt through rebirths—as cagey but kind, this immortal songstress, mopping for fleeing into battles.     We’ve examined little, as desiring clarity, plagued by this remorseful course: our pagan sisters; our Jewish allies; our histories mingling in blackness; where souls fever, as immortal atmospheres, where one revs a current into another’s living-room: that ottoman screaming; that settee bleeding; that masked weaver serenading sensibilities: if but to daughters, our blessed awareness, as never to forget our sons—this mortal-immortal, as to waters by flame, trekking for grieving while at joys to participate.