[…so fragile & delicate…so witty &
elegant…so disrupted & frazzled….].
We fret existence,
teaching examples, left to screams: this imperfection, whereat, our replicas,
dancing to psychotic brains: our prodigies, our prodigals, this passion for
mother: our caretaker, our primary infusion, this irreparable petal: as eyes
glisten, this internal glitter, our tears gutting our stomachs: as lifelong
therapies; or psychs for medicines; such through damages our ghetto
miracles. I lost laughter, while reeling
injustice, to find this partial pulpit: our scandalous revelries; our phantom
misprints; compounded by religious rudiments: as parted atheists, screaming
religiosity, to simmer into spiritual:
this scientific, this kaleidoscope god, this Bella Sera: our garbs afloat, this pineal gland of mystics, such by
this cliff disputing its sanity: our fireball sketches, as heavy intestines,
those shifts & churns through livers.
I read about love, drawn to ideals, idyllic our treasons to explore: that subtle grace, abandoned to feelings,
where crows are gnawing blue blades: this grassy hillside, this country of
dying men, this mountain but so enchanting: these tales by smoke, this smaze by
glass, our inheritance monitored closely; whereto, this telic agency, our
synoptic alibis, or reasons for sheer
treachery—as needing acceptance, while foul against society, where pastors
perish panic. I discourse feelings,
ablaze an element, while debating our teachings: this mental professor, as he
churned truths, angered for this gravity tugging parakeets: this afoul image,
where anger prevailed, while present to soul this steep regret: our warmest
rivers, our coldest furnaces, our major insanities: this pash weaving, this
love adrift, our rain as testament to new crops: if but to agony, devoid of
growth, our psychs would invent justice: this soul collapsed, as rising a
phoenix, fiddling through Exodus: or left to tenets, as fundamental concrete,
this need to believe beyond our existence: those ragging eagles, this running
rabbit, this big eyed chimpanzee—where mother sits, while sipping Malt Liquor,
this dull white rocklet. It was achy
diamonds, this pillaging sky, this pang in prophets: our daughter’s music, our
rebirth disdained, this passionate project—as rare to souls, or cured for
explored, where it felt good to see growth: our colorless colors; our invisible
visions; this passion for impermanent permanence: if but to koans, this face
before existence, this unthinkable image: our lights low, our ferns singing,
this rose upon ice. I remember, Three Stooges; wherefore, this reckless
charm; while oblivious to moral will: that
lowercase, as implying vandalism, while tugged for essence this bleeding
grayness: at supper absent, peering at hypocrisies, finding through mazes our
courage to laugh: as diluted ethics, become immortal
curses, we ask, [Where did he learn
that from?]: this reverberation, this silent killer, our reasoning pilfering our calm estates: those seconds prior, that third swig,
this twig floating through synaptic gaps: this disconnection, those endless inquiries, while refusing to
acknowledge this lose of respect: as timeless psychology, or misunderstood,
where existence must acquiesce: if but to breathe, an addict’s exegesis, this
hermeneutical travesty: as eyes blend, as fathers wane, where essence has
forfeited this adventure: those secret
wills, this mental ransom, our
sandpits becoming quicksand: wherefore, this treacherous intake, this ferocious
inrush, our treasures casted to crocodiles—where Love gazes, this event in
souls, partaking of our writhing bones. We
knit ideals, as winning this landscape, while fortifying our linchpins: our
hinges oiled, our bolts secure, our screws adjusted for storms: this miracle
child, so wild an influence, where our rare gifts are desecrated: this inner
jealousy, this frightening youth, those mental apologetics—as captured in vices,
as distinguished pillars, pointing for bawling seeing our selves.
