[…and life wouldn’t, as deranged
adversaries, this volt-hook; and life couldn’t, as estranged blueberries,
seeking likelihoods: this fueled dementia, at tennis our psychs, at tyrannies
our dreams: that oblong shovel, whereto, this augmented ditch, afar a lotus
this sky-welding ostrich: at tragic terms, this paddle up shore, this pausing
to sentence a genuine feeling….]
It was jailing eyes, at condemnations,
abroad, at terrible insights: that wellic
glow, this after-moon irony, our mornings to moodiness.
…I see feathers, falling midstream, our
midair grasps—that travesty abated, this feeling skating, our visions becoming
signposts: if but to live, seeping, therein, as but that second to eternities:
our crying laughter, our shameless cinemas, our houses refurbished….
Are webs content
without Illusions?
We boil broccoli,
flavored with soy sauce, electric at responses: We Jockey softly, chasing
foxes, our Queens above life: and We perish as infant-adults at studies those
gems.
I must break free,
this chiding Freedom, this herbal,
traumatic essence: as living beyond,
this vacuum of lances, those tears reaching:
as storms settle, leering at debris, that scorpion beneath undergrowth: our
dreams belated; our Gabriella’s at wars; our thoughts to longstanding(s).
Hours later
We’re ocean green,
gazing upon flamingoes, anxious for recognition: this dreamy soul, kneeling
upon floors, our eyes to concrete landscapes: this swan as edgy, our mothers as
testy, as comes about this timidity: that fabulous chi-spa, this wretched
disposition, this present visitation: our sorrows to graves, our inner phones
to mystery, this felt intimidation: as fathers smile, a bit uneasy, at love,
this incredible, Sexton: our psychs to battles, our therapists to solutions,
our chimes provoking our nerves. I laugh
a tear, with miserable feelings, our eyes a talent droopy: that casual gesture,
as measured his days, where something insignificant sprouts this furnace by
joys: if could to love, this unyielding adoration, this place to perish before
offenses: I’d coddle deaths, while breath leaps, its destination our hearts’ sky-terrors…this
furious kleptic, running with sentiments, but too evasive to excavate Adullam:
our crosswise quilts, this voltage tunic, our healings becoming our tortures:
this vibrant turtle, that nibbling ant, our dinosaur ‘transmitters: to soar for
Love, as effaced by Love, where Love reckons a volt thrusting agonies: those
tiny paws, those explosive fathoms, this wish upon features as sudden
delusions. I’ve touched life, peering at
characteristics, but such afar from living life: those wreckage traits, our
morning breath, our creamy coffee—this voice to winds, those skies carrying
wonder, our scientists decoding God: indeed, to shame, while thrust into
feelings, this particular essence irreducible: this Light sprinkling, as
terrible flowers, it’s essence this cocktail revelation!
We’re climbing
ladders, voiced in privacy, akin to something prior to dusts: this ecliptic Wind, those saintly chains, this force
dictating unnatural behaviors: as fleeing, Saul, to possess by sword, at raised
insanities pleading innocence: this Kingdom Suffering, our tears to Basins, our
feet washed afore our Messiah; indeed, to savory feelings, while tugged with
paradox, this challenge as not to destroy this inner image: our ships to
Odysseys, our gods but plural, this visage as Three, our Mysteries to One.
