We
analyze life, aborted to madness, studied by genetics: this trapdoor, those
psychotic prints, at life-spans feeling oblivious: those tentacle songs, this
island of fluff ails, that season of deep resistance: this musical force, this
reckless charm, our treacherous compassions: if but with silence, analyzing
love, at churns feeling unstable: for love consumes, while souls perish, this
fit in fairness adorning this roadmap: as brains merge, this steep recognition,
this city of idiosyncrasies—those slimy snails, this telic butterfly, our
analogies depicted in metaphors. I skate
blueprints, sliced within, at
variances with sodium: or that captive feeling, entrenched in guts, a tear to
orange-skies [this melic life, those melic keys, this tragic resume]: or more this surfing, pictured
as complete, with monsters beneath our contours. (…years have passed us, our women starting
families, our men at softball: this batting frenzy, this love for Lucy, or our
Americanized Comforters: our jasper sun, our horizon moon, this travesty with
sitting stillness: our recapped romance, that box of crystals, our bubbles with
champagne—if but to exist, this formal passion, this informal legacy: adrift a
dozen stars, arriving upon Neptune, seized by islands upon Venus). We analyze life, our eye-eye mentors, this
disposition for hoping: those gray signposts, that symbol of violence, those
roundabout impressions: as brains jog or joust about silence, or jest with
fences: as turquoise feelings, or remorseful gestures, or more, this ability to
feel comfortable: those meadows bluish, that forest purple, this compassion
yellow—as wheels spinning, our Ezekiel genetics, our ponds rinsing
hopelessness. I feel but washed, this
cycle above delicates, this inner web of chandeliers: our harsh goodbyes, as
once so fervent, where I realized this will
as studied: [that is to say], this ability for kindness, while one is
worthy of such kindness: or this outer guitar, fretted by life, depicted in
myriad unknowingness: that humble
man, trained by scorpions, our fishes evolving stingers: as wrestled souls, or
simile minds, or introduced madness. (It
was love tugging, as agreed our hearts, our wars against inclinations: or this
courage-force, admitted as interior, a bit terrified to lose).
