We ate chicken: We ballet’d against
petroglyphs: We cried as only addicts explore:
this welter’s grape, our instrumentals, this yogic line: to find with torments,
this space scissoring skin, our breath a mirror screaming, Indifference: this hurtful island, as feeling castrated, our
daughters this flex beneath wings: if but to deaths, as cliffs breed harmonies,
to see with flying this cast of deliverance: our cadent dreams, this mystic
muffin, our calamities seeping into illusions.
I die at spring, this life exuberance, thereto, this fleeing, adorned as
caves: our mythic magic, this inner allegory, our tenets as reasoning(s) for
mis-negotiations: as men weaving, or women craving, those tears meant for
private altars: our puss filled bumps, this oregano odor—with such as death
pleading allegiance: this alliance in leprechauns; this dusky dawn; our
thoughts as missiles disputing scriptures: our mental mothers, our exampled
fathers, this cloister of emotions—to extract by portals, this flying by
feelings, to scrape with cuts this addict’s screams: while inner awestruck, our
mothers to sherm leafs, afore a brain introduced to ghosts: this door waning,
this weight exhausted, this welt to sons four steps to desperation: our deep
intimacies, this bewitched ceiling, our parallels attempting to raise,
Cinderella. I felt giddy, before words
formulated; such by mercy to embrace a curse: this Heart-Mechtild, this vintage
jacket, our inheritance a pair of porcelain diamonds. We reckon much, as considering forgiveness,
while secrets prove to destroy our reckless homes: this serpent repenting,
while ingesting venom, to vomit unto a legendary Paradise: this film recording,
this art aborting, our seas as science dispelling mysteries: if but to witness,
this unspoken manifest, our fingers with dust our faces. (I imagine justice, this fibered diet,
while gutted by inner sharks: this element weaning, this woman to churns, our
song as truly dysfunctional: that mental hijacker, that outer orator, this
feeling if but a perfect second: to forfeit existence, as cleaving to horrors,
while elated a claim feeling disserted: those silken butterflies, this
daughter’s hummingbirds, that strong essence by plights a budding petal—as
father grins, as mother is frantic, to curse with life our grandfather’s clock:
our russet concrete, this blood wailing, Dreams,
our garnet-crispy-wines: as made of silk, this oily-water, flitting for
fleeing, flexed in heart-chakras. I dine
regrets, this cloudy-tension, where desertion proves as panic: to rebuild
bodies, as extracted for pure, while vessels seek disparaging mirrors: this
mental image, as disgusted with purities, while claiming for essence this
inner, Mary: if but to exhaust, this fatal spin, where death seemed perfect our
existence). I heard photographs, those
steep impressionists, this stage fraught with glass: those particles to flesh,
that blood to its audience, this father feeling reprobate: this metaphysic, as
chancellors dine, where credulous-sights felt unbearable: our achy groins, this
un-fleshed repentance, this mystic turmoil—to breathe with ails, this songs of
ascetics, reaching for pardoned depicting ethos:
this keystone wilting, this inner reminiscence, our terrors as calmness: to
picture existence, this telic force, where pragmatic decisions prove as caring:
if but to perish, this slim resistance, while esoteric charms demand a hearing:
that synaptic countenance, this revving excursion, this film displaying our
partner’s screams: as contrite souls, embedded by intrusions, as luminous as
our mourning sky-scrapes. (We come to
egress, while staggering our brains, fraught for disheartened by chaos: this
fragile creature, while filled with emotions, at slights an instance
unbeknownst: our enamored wishes, as pure to rejections, about as tremulous as
newborn kittens: this space in atmospheres, to reach with passions, slamming
into a vessel’s arc).
