Genetic Spirit Churns

…this Hindu dream, this Indian power, those wretched wishes: to tame a maniac, or gorge our blood, dripping-for-failing alive this last disaster: that Sufi goddess, our blank madness, at tropical mind-forces: this winded export, this inner glassware, our terrified fires: as men dying, those limbs reborn, this hip pushing for bruising insanity: thereto, our mistakes, our lavish eyelashes, this outer brain-core.     I saw a yogi, our liquor our debts, puffing our nicotine: or Indonesia, or lemur furs, riding for galloping those spurs: to laugh our lungs, peering at derriere, gripping insanity this wild native mare: as dolphin cries, or dolphin eyes, that bar that tavern our nights to blood—if but to cherish, as remote this island, nibbling for tasting an achy neck: this caiman gin, this caiman pen, our turbid lakes seething with vengeance.     I macro life, at micro-pains, or lavish for misery our screams: those perfect webs, this nest of diamonds, those breasts we die at birth: this curse chasing, our women groaning, our panties directing earnest—this mythic music, our allegorical(s), this anaconda strep for body tears: those teeming ponds, this lady-tadpole, if but by fairytale to exclaim this sexual map-war.     (We shift gears, such bio-chemistry, this Zen Buddhist: to die with aches, as lives a scoundrel, attempting to mate this dynasty: our blank woes, our teddy-bear cries, this shoebill becoming emotional: that Chanel face, those Neutrogena screams, this birth as cut afforded a dozen psychs: that glossy room, those shorn appetites, this inner psychologist: where mother whines, if not for laughs, while so cruel a ghoul leaps: thitherto, our adorable freckles, our remorseful panties, our nights to redeeming that first enchantment: those torrid years, this torrid jeer, our fears in bottles those city puddles: if but to exhaust, at feelings by rawness, this century to removing our scars: those ankle-high jeans, this mind to fantasies, this woman smiling: our men laughing, our women serious, this inner certitude ravished by silence—as born to genetics, this intellectual sponge, this territorial gauge: as, thither, cursed, this denim jacket, that gentle stomach: as kissed at corners, while laughing liquor, this drip into insanity: where father chances, as rapt’d in ecstasies, this place in our purgatorial apparitions: as women in suits, or Muslim scholars, or this Islamic minx—while ribs shatter, imploding with chaos, our fences taped with Red Cross).     I met a Mason, as torn this passion, laughing in silence looking quite serious: this Taoist goddess, this frozen bleach, this wintry cub: at tears laughing, at terror’s obligations, winking for thought I saw…this moonlit beige, this cagey attraction, this temperamental cage—where Love was genus, or captive-unborn, as more that vehicle needing but one first experience: in truths, we dream, in scars, we sing, at traumas, we dance: this flying unicorn, or that pale rose, as lives a man sickly at Love: this terrified reindeer, that explosive Diaspora, that inverted Holocaust—as sung his guts, gripping for deaths, at last-laughs aborted to prisons.     We survived deaths, at God with highlighters, our addicts this new adventure: our sober angst, our summer Love, this trip embedded in Greece: those Latin women, this Belizean mistress, this Jewish at soul-wars: our possessed friends, this overseeing dynasty, those welts to brains as standing in stillness: that mental hospice, this meter of seabirds, our bipolar museums: where men fall, as women rise, but such is Love to grasp our wrists: that mythical woman, this womb to sights, this agony to lights: our fluorescent passions, this arctic fox, as becoming so humble: our Thich Nat Hahn’s, our trembling Sunshine, this hospitable red hart: at bridges leaping, at dreams suspended, at Swarovski crumbling: those jasmine thighs, that auburn mane, that invasive glitter!