We
die as legends, this panther instinct, our Vietnam wars: this cold river, our
brooks at nirvana, our womanly
counterparts free: as men cleaving, but cut to souls, alive as dead peering at
histories: this warm shiver, that volt to brains, our Freudian Slips. I conjured, Jung, this atypical mansion, our
brains flayed before kingdoms: our Asian animas, our African animus, such as
destinies dying resurrection: that mystic alligator; that fair crocodile; our
shoebill genetics: this woman’s love, this steep agony, our Financial Aids: as
pastors cringing, or priests ambivalent, out professors carrying leviathans:
such depth perception, at psychs with pencils, as to erase misidentifications:
that Irish dream, that Danish loyalty, this precinct by brains: hitherto, this
aim broken, this slain smoking, our bodily ailments fleeing remedies: if but to
suffer, while happy a scheme, where-was, this instance by tragedies: those addicts glistening, this spiritual
allergy, our muffins with cream cheese.
I’m gnawing sea-grass, while communing with bison(s), while fiddling
this dream by absence: our kleptic devices, this happy scar, our aguish
needling sky-essence: by caiman genetics, or dinosaur consciousness, at
raptures staring at God’s fens: this friend to brains, our last ingestions, our
alcoholic inflections…this essence speaking, our genetics soaring, at music
disappearing into magic: our Venus shakes, this last sip, our souls fretting,
Jim Jones: that People’s Temple, this tragic adventure, those seeds shivering
from wilderness fevers…our catlike neurons, our dingo gaps, our wolves raiding
livestock—as women living, featured in blackness, our wisest minds disputing
Womanism: that fair aesthetic, those feminist’s white doves, this agenda-man
disrupted by tenacity—as flowing into butterflies, or descending into
bloodstreams, where caves glisten at red petals. We ache
hostilities, moved by fawning(s), abased for indifferent: this lethal churn,
that rubescent tulip, this taupe admonishment: our white women, our ethnic stars,
our Jewish Temples: or Zoroastrianism, wrestling with Zoroaster’s friction,
this strict duality: as rare is beauty, as fair is glory, our deepest blackness
becoming this ecumenical symbol: wherewith, our wild horses, this shy
dejection, this aloof prescience: while itching genetics, or wiggling
amygdalas, to find within Emotion
this common electricity: that sudden fury, those dreams to monsters, this woman
afraid that justice might advance: as furniture shifts, where
cedarchest inflame, while fumbling upon secret compartments. It was hell’s glory, wrestling with Athena,
robbing this medicine-spirit: our needed accomplishments; our burnish roses;
this purple swan: as royal garments, or dead weeds, to flourish this course by existence: our lungs bleeding, our women
debating, as at once our souls were dearly inconsequential: this love for
essence, this code distorted, our minds hampered by forward motion: this cut so
deep, this woman so non-to-passivity, while distant a tear pleading insistence:
at caiman instincts, at shoebill matrimony, while ashamed for fleeing where
weakness calls by demands: our furious livers, this man sipping, those aches to
Newport(s) plagued by menthol…this addict
watching, as feeling her son, to flip with frenzy wrestling with dolphins:
this prince of wars, our Machiavellian principles, this Monroe goddess—as aches
his brains, to destroy his instincts, at terrors loving this fretful shoebill.
