Navy Blue Tents

We live existence, painted in acrylics, that furtive glance: this ceiling climbing, this woman waning, our feelings guiding intuition: those bald eagles, our polar bear emotions, this instance that appeal: as gardeners pruning, or rabbis musing, or swords, evaporating: whereat, this mindful ruler, this rubric phantom, our years to Sisyphus.  I ache with silence, pictured as pictureless, attempting to sound syllables but unheard: this angst in men, our fathoms winking, our kilometers growing: as Pagan thieves, or Jewish converts, at riddles preferring our ladders: that inner swan, that precious vandal, our Caribbean voyage: whereupon, this gorgeous tadpole, that leaping prince, our days to imagination: as souls churning, our teas and cognac, our lemons becoming sweet: our smileless fires, our reigns slipping, our women living as entrepreneurs—to cut with reticence, as living through shackles, our women admiring lawyers: that haven heart, as redeemed by gestures, seated aside something formable: that witty gaze, those deep insights, this blueprint to human psyches: at love this arc, while adrift those scars, at flames realizing mediocrities: those frozen seas, this intestinal sea-ice, our winged concealments: to love as dying, or merely nonchalant, where addicts demand excitements.  I forfeit illness, as abandoned to illness, moreover, at cadence with clarities: those reciting hips, this failure to examine, our inner personas at tears: as arctic foxes, or plasma reindeer, our thoughts bleeping into foci: those thighs laughing, aborted to satiation, at streams composing sestinas: our repeated beings, this segue with crime, our aches reaching into our romances: this mental neuron, those rabid transmitters, our knuckles bearing witness: that casual woman, as offered to souls, whereunto, this shift in requirements: to negotiate feelings, or inhospitable angers, at forces reclaiming our fascinations: that big eyed child, that sandbox rabbit, this swing courting our flipping(s): as memoires bleed, our stressors through essence, our hologramic screams: that ignored purse, our insidious riches, our men and women soaring private visions: that angular mare, this theft by hearts, our refusals to loosen—our rabid sensations, this purchase upon humans, our delightful slavery.  I loved as winning, this sheer adventure, thereunto, waging wars with science: our mystic unicorns, this mystic resilience, our days to omission—if but for comforts, as appalled by intimacies, while, nonetheless, captivated by aesthetics: our snatches by breaths, this survival by fittest, this army of pin-needled emotions—to flux with passion, that esthetic throat, this wish for soaring controversies: our cod with rice, our whales to agonies, this furious water as insightful: our warm baths, this flogging mentality, this abbess rebuking something natural: as sold to thoughts, this pigeon plucking, this falcon hard on our heels: that remote island, our inner naiveties, at sermons knitting partial truths.  I felt a ton, above two thousand pounds, at tyranny his bowels: that meter-thick plight, this melodic spell, our millennia to refocusing: those simple goodbyes, our simplest lies, this fervent algebra: where seabirds whistle, as chameleons knit, while evermore our intuitions are held hostage: that lunatic moon, that sunrise illusion, this interior horizon: to slice by practice, this praxis by men, while Love is prone to fancies.  Its autumn rain, seated for perfect, realizing self-delusion: this tracing by leaves, this horse to hay, our needles abandoned to oceans: that swimming instinct, that watchful yacht, this mobile fever: hither, a thought, if kleptic our attraction, or forced to surrender gourmet: this torrent raging, our brains exploding, at such a kiss our lullabies: that baby infant, as salutes our affections, while meaning this life: our tragic deaths, whereat, arguing self, whereto, feeling unwanted: at ever this dance, clinging to life-rafts, where souls destroy this mirror’s inflection: that sloth’s existence, while suffocating addicts, whereas, it felt important to resist: those palm coconuts, this vine of muffins, our plums with pudding: or deluded souls, repeating our images, compelled to live!