Indwelling Chains: Silent Cries

I was childish, linked to Darkness, at some sort by miracles: those grievance eyes, that sickly charm, those limbs speaking in tongues—our chaos, our mother’s dreams, to realize that addicts have visions: this human endeavor, this slight digestion, this loud inflation—as men dying, or women at restrictions, or both suffering private prisons: this human dilemma, this human condition, our fathers to late night excursions: our mafia screams, this planet of officials, at mercies pleading castles: that blade of grass, those fantasia abilities, this literature goddess: while fueled but wailing, this shackled essence, those childhood examples: our courageous guts, this resilient/passive monster, our hearts welded as bleeding: this woman to dreams, this woman to schemes, this soul courting snake-legs: if but to resist, as killing his aches, while destroying his mind: our brain properties, this psychosomatic, our ghosts to rush as in-pouring.     (I love this sentence, I die this sentence, pleading before our daughter’s audience: this reachless father, this silent mother, as all but deaths scurrying our lands: this cave he dreamt, this island he mated, this pheasant he recruited: those lovely brooks, as pushing English, while mounted to miseries—as frank admissions, or frank loyalties, our cores as isolated begonias: this sad alliance, feeding with ferns, abased while chasing this billion dollar life…if but destroyed, as feelings dissipate, this enchanted resistance: but deaths are plural, as magnificent pillars, a man to exclaim his love for miseries: if but to flourish, this stepping-stone frenzy, our brains inverted seething existence: that charming breakage, that lonesome noose, this feeling that fires are born through mindstuff: that leaping daughter, those brilliant flames, this essence spoke upon by Natives: our deep hatred, this whirl by radiance, this swirl by Darkness: that inner crane, those goose-bump sensations, our grandparents returning from death).     We ache for Love, this candescent miracle, this mean soul: as songs unsung, our tendencies won, this spun dejection: our eyes seeping, our shoulders low, our miracles playing pretend—where mother injects, while steady at cocaine, whereto, this plethora of behavioral inconsistencies: our wrongs but rights, our degraded shames, this pushing forward resisting change: [while roses effervesce, as skies are opalescent, where daughters are iridescent—those lakes filtering diamonds, while Sade scribbles prose: this rest as coming, those tears as plush, at nightmares petting teddy bears: our soul libraries, our spirit librarians, our mental psychiatries: this face screaming, this man but violence, to confront with humilities: as arts capture, this silent sensei, this radical Taoist: our tragic red beans, our rice with gravy, our lambs with corn—as miracle babies, or Malcolm brains, fleeing for surrender acknowledging Thich Nhat Hanh: this peaceful savage, this man of resistance, this monk threshed in Darkness: this lime kingdom, this walking invisibility, those screams at grains poured into existence: this achy psych, this message as blinded, this fever for fashion deep this subterranean: our miracle friends, this war on drifting, this space as rendering insights: our telic professors, our mirrored deceased, our mothers to visions].     Our Fiji brains, linked for survival, requiring steep concentration: to possess that gift, while secretive that gift, where one realizes a silent companion: this quilt to aches, as life needs applause, where lack leads to depression: this world of apples, this tale by sinners, our grins while ploughed a feeling discouraged: at seahorse screams, to penetrate surface lands, at sudden this invigorating vibration: our earthquake hearts, this crafted art-piece, this weathered encyclopedia: our women raging, our fathers silent, our dear travail increasing rapidity—as lowness occurs, our classifications, at tender shames to realize truths: this kakapo parrot, this learned scholar, this ghetto poet: to remember psychiatries, this evolved white creature, while struggling this existential curse: our falling gazes, that grimace by angles, this resistance to adverse mirrors: this man flying, his kite upon high, to slam to concrete a simple gesture: as brilliant eyes, to soar such glory, appraises inner humilities.