I came for flights, embedded in daughter’s
eyes, at hindsight our rear-views: this Sia quest, this Sexton ambition, those
Latin memoires: at courage bubbling, this infamous contagion, our engines
acquiring new pistons: if but to fly, our literary appetizers, those epicurean
delicacies—where Love watches, formed in light-bulbs, exploding for freedoms
such essential shards. I came for
memories, as such to slip our grasps, while a sudden gesture ushers a tear:
this dread to see, as never for, Purpose,
while such intrudes, therewith; as, nonetheless, to nibble at punctures,
crying our Chalkboards: this foolish
soul, our falderal habits, this vest as giving life: our curt delusions, at
spacial grins, afloat agonies becoming spurs.
We live as flying: We die as sundries: We wish at portals a brain’s
horizons: this feeling flooded, as anguish trickles, our polite tears becoming guillotines. (I felt a carcass; as, moreover, existence,
while healing for textures this mind: our plural feasts, as religiosities,
falling into undergrowths: that class portrait, those existentialists, this
epistemic night-terror—to imagine voices, as slipping dementias, favored as
mere a feature: our extracted heart-plates, replaced with magnifying-mirrors,
this haunt to escape this seeing person—as bent rubber-faucets, those
outpouring algorithms, this test as rewarded for ignoring passions: this
ligament dream, by which, a core vision, where attraction becomes by
whetstones: those chocolate wells, this
Douglass Empire, those vanilla toes: to evade justice, such iron-sequences, this
British sport aside foxes). I flower
with time, abased by intuition, realizing, Eternity pressures—those remote
roots, as oaken offshoots, this treasure by mingling branches: as living
Gentiles, this pith, screaming, this acquisition of elements—our sullen dance,
as remarkable forces, those years to perfecting, brain-science: if but to
capture, this experiential feeling, at
essence, two by this impractical statistic: that sky-cemetery, that
exospheric-lake, this swimming at random those cryptic volts—where Love would
cherish, but tugged asunder, laughing at a sudden breakdown…to remove life,
while studying life, where temperaments become entities: this feeling person,
at heavy existence, spurned for dissecting darkness: this chiseling rapture,
those brilliant insights, this wave needing shared-agreements—thereto, this
grandmother wit, this grandfather tension, our mothers lighting candles—if but
to dream, while tugged asunder, feeling for selfish craving inventions: those
tentacle-vices, as soaring through allocations, threshed for patented-advice:
those clauses at mid-scales, this balance through Paradise, our lessens
becoming Immortal: as furious
kleptics, removed from mercy, at terrors to demand our accruing interests. I came for lights, to have met by fires,
while extraordinary became this fragment by minds: to curse existence, this day
to darkness, as but to recant peering at, Awesomeness: this cage sealed, this
shoulder hunching, our faces to designs embedded in mystics: our angst
filleted, our eggs crisp, this whisk through Jerusalem: our Ezekiel eyes, this
ghostly atmosphere, this essence peering at too far a dream: our casual deaths,
to laugh at liquor, while finding this life through recollections: those
revving psychoses, this return to sanity, those loses as but premonitions;
where Love was cagey, if but to fly, while seated at, Rainbow Fleetingness. We needed feelings, if but to exist,
traveling yonder-afar: those apple-green leaves, this evergreen pond, that
fluffy bunny rabbit—at saffron pears, at glaring lakes, at mystic highlights:
if but to song-trumpets, our wills for
seeping sadness—to exist through cadence, losing our arrivals, featured as omega-brains—this alpha enterprise, our
biblic underpinnings, this essence spent revved with concerns: to see it speaking,
this space in prose, while demanding freedoms to breathe: that inner castle;
that yonic pain; this outer reality—where Love becomes as robots, this
analytical fragrance, while tugged by emerging forces: our souls to gravity,
our brains to sky-cleats, our hearts to resistance, while cliffs are
screaming.
