Oh
sleepy cries, abandoned to creepy eyes, at agonies by demented laughter: this
achy silence, this bottle of gas, this sipping by ammonia: at below zero, caved
in gravities, at conversations concerning weight: our hallowed daughters, our
wildlife sons, our confusion about blackness: that fist by rage, or polar bears
fasting, while it felt perfect close to two months: this man dying, this woman
excavating, those archeological bones—where bane was gentle, our intestinal
genetics, at rivers surprising coroners.
[…those thoughts as kleptic, to plan his future, unaware of caiman
psychotics—as gods work, this payment for actions, this pail of grasshoppers:
our rustic rivers, our loquat shakes, this delicate vine supporting bears: those
ocean goats, this Britain winter, this Euro-Asian lawyer: but a song dying, but
an arc rising, as but a dream defusing: for love laughed, as astuteness
watched, a bit too long this catastrophe: (…to call justice, by this gut phone,
as mystics collaborated: that reaching heart, those grape-torn-fears, this soul
hanging laundry: such arctic circles, this frozen fleece, at mercies demanding respect:
as lungs die, as infants whine, those all night bottles….): that red deer
chronic, that chapter in Kings, this almighty perfect projection: where father
failed, and mother was toasted, and step-father was drunk: this late morning
chaos, that early night façade, our multiplication increasing vision: our
golden eagles, our trips to zoos, our botanical insights: that closet lamp,
that table fire, this spinning flustered for acceptance: as died a lion, this
speed of falcons, our hares running frantically: that last Supper, this album
skipping, that dream decimated….]. We
near extinction, this woolly mammoth, forbidden from royal gates: that have-not
fever, accepting anything, at wonders concerning privilege—those rings
laughing, this city crust, our tales at Venice Beach: our pockets heavy, those
magnetic features, close to a trillion suffering from psychoses: that kilo
backdrop, our summer reign, this kingdom recruiting its deserved essence: that
man chasing, as mere a genetic, dissecting monkey brains—as lives an ape,
dissected for hormones, or gazed upon unto dementias: wherefore, this crooked
light, those grassy rocks, this tiptoeing frustration—as vandals approach,
pillaging for sustenance, our minds unto arctic foxes.
We drift.
We
see visions, this bamboo culture, or but a village of sheep: that wolf
watching, that consecrated entity, our geese frantic: as times were young, our
tiger brains, that psychotic shaman: as dreams form, as tears grow muddy, while
tanks shift through bases: those feline cats, while trekking through snow, our
whispers a bit too loud: to court sharks, at love for weeks, at travesty’s
door: those cryptic hunting(s), that inner music, studying sociopathic
deception: to ruin by lives, or diminish innocence, while wiping mouths and
bathing freely. I disappear, as to
each his deaths, where animals continue to reflect: as not for redemption, but
more for hunting, this group of mired souls: as never a thought, or even a
gesture, at souls with pure poison.
We fly.
