By
travesty, invested by zeal, our cryptic dolor—as swans paddle, flipping by
chaos, a tear closed inside; by miracle cadence, as glanced to flying, our opus
humor: those burgundy rivers; that red tide by justice; this qualified
losing—to reach equations, spaced by energies, as tragic impulses: our inner
grandparents; this classic calamity; our judges smiling through disdain: this
inner psych; that edgy professor; our lawyers a tale by Grecian gods: to love
our swan, as dead a soldier, our prizes convoluted: those falcon eyes; our
eagle’s wings; this griffin’s soul; as magic sewn, awaiting its consequence,
while rabid with sorrows: our mental nibs; those fibbing gestures; our laughter
knitted in travesties: to ignore those traits, while affronted by said traits,
as never at full realization; as clashes souls, our boulders downhill, our
pushing for gravity—this return to chaos, our cycles feigning arrivals, our metaphysicians feigning
closure—this opened wound, dripping insanity, our risky behaviors; as unsealed
his soul, our freedoms ebbing, this pear as symbolic love; where mother laughs,
as sudden a tear, to fall clutching her guts: our outer panic, this eclectic
high, gnawing at pink rum. I ache our
minds, tormented by reason, at
communion with Logos; this phantom
bleeding, as presumed clearance, our flutes with dates: that granny riven; our
vase at resistance; our sweat as aqua-puce—that deep resilience, as formed in
cinemas, this harp soothing that release; hereto, this sifting stream, while
melding images, while feeding seabirds: our luxury pains, afflicted by
kindness, our addictive ancestors—that man by mirrors, that daughter by
literature, this planning as our perfect weddings—if but to senses, this web as
livid, our wires straddling phantoms: this hectic heartcave, as terrorized by
thoughts, by occasion a candid smile—as if to lights, at life enjoyed, our woes
as if dissipating—this cruel adventure, our foreign leaguers, our journals by
horrific trespass: as nightmare music, our friends to sensory, this leaflet miraculous
insights—as written proverbs, to sort through turmoil, while deep a star for
living life. Ours are rumors; this
picture in time; our distance seated by abrasions—our logic partial; our
methods by orthodoxy; our surreal wildfire: that type as firebrand, this
undergrowth of yearning, our winters to internal shadows; that trestle of
harmonies, as our disguises tattle, that immergence of blue-waves—where
rhapsody appears, this flux in membranes, a tear concerned by transmitters—to
give but truths, this welkin sensation, as cries this twofold dragon—as spaced
in pains, while cemented in joys, a tear detached from that inner person [as
mothers die, our imperfect firewood, our monetary paradises: this opus
whetstone, this nonplus sensation, this
inrush of fantasts agility—if but to sing, as sang our dimensions, flickering
through twilight dreams]: to garner our futures, this event through reason, at sudden departure our
innocence: this misplaced element, at societal crucifixions, our aria bleeding
nostalgia: that permanent feeling, as lost to impermanence, this elaborate cry
for normalities: our rapture; our Flowing
Light; this portal through life as sheer confusion: our existential;
our inner scruples; this rapture as sanctified vexation—to come to silence, as
leading through behaviors, our music at comforts with tacit explanations; to
have by cadence, this touch of art, while addicted to certain elations: that
casual breath, as taken in jest, as laudable but unaffected: this tithing in
spirits; that inner sacrifice; this meal of orange breads—as emphatic sparkles,
our fathers to seeking, our mothers to conquering—as exposed fatigues, or
cautious cauldrons, while distresses are often pardoned—this ace of diamonds,
as aloof to causalities, this knoll as an oversight: those prism phantoms, to
ravel our brains, seated in fitful vibrations [to love our swan, or dying to
love, while situated to teach a nation: this space reaching, where levity
becomes treacherous, while nettled through chaotic concerns: this wealth
gripping; this swan actualizing; our brains upwelling by potentiality—to adore
such features, as lives an inner penguin, this trekking through colonies—that
bold cry, as etiquette dreams, where soulquakes become operas]. {I’m pensive a scream, flooded by harpoons,
at gravity our ballad—this musicality, our barefaced orb, this silence of
souls; as dies infinity, our bleeding
songbird, this fulgent travesty—to use but words, as cutting through steel,
such splendor by crimson tears: that observant mystic, those observant psychs,
this sudden realization of new energies: that granny vigil; that father at
battles; this thing where words perform as one’s sanity: to show for courses;
to denote clarity; or connote a subtle death—as born crying, or silent by
returns, where onlookers cherish our eastern star: those saintly eyes, as lives
those brains, that feisty attitude—to snap with patience, while teaching
survival, our mothers perfect at seizing our souls: our dreamlike discernments;
our gemstone fireballs; this ember trickling koans; to arrive at essence, this
love as brimming, our seismic revelation}.
Our reach is mental, distorted through time, this tragic warfare; as man
affronts life, where life retaliates, this feral nectar—as digested in turmoil,
while seated at demonic corners, as to infuse by life this clutching of guts:
those cagey whispers, that silent echo, this thunderous kernel—as stresses our
brooks, our husbands to liquor, our wives to reputations—where earth is flat,
while thoughts are rounded, herewith, our unsung selfhood; as doing wrong, but
a decade at tortures, this fission of sublime tenets: that tempest of souls, at
wonders this land, but imperfect essence perfecting certain crafts: to love
evermore, as dying forevermore, to arise wistful through pyrrhic victories.
