*…smoky-eyed
fire, excruciating pain, our soul-life: losing weight, feeling frigid, and
dying for closure: this traffic-life, this mountain passion, those Ten
Commandments: these bruises to bones, this curse with phones, this electrical
psych: our mystic fancies, our mystic daughters, our mystic mothers: this
tribal warfare, this inner catastrophe, or this self-image dilemma: our running
arcs, our damaged hearts, while seeking love this last shoulder: our cut with
lace, our liquor with weeds, this fury too furious for freedom: those cavelike
years, this prehistoric gene, this shoebill mentality: our dark nightmares,
those singing dunes, this inner scorpion—as mother lives, this plant with meal,
this jalapeño with bacon: as men die, to live her life, if but unyielding
passion: this crooked road, that crooked office, this new dementia: as never
offending, but bending game, to explode a second borne to silence: this burning
cigar, this burning fever, this trifle alibi: if but to perish, our sunset
deserts, our sea-deserts, our ocean-sands: this bent with death, this casual
existential, this man peeking through souls: this metaphysical, this
grim-reaper, this apparition: our stars with gin, our daughters with sins, our
great souls mourning with grandparents: to live as galvanized, to lose as
hypnotized, while guts bury essence….*
(…our
poisoned daisies, our psychedelic tulips, our heart-stirred calamity: this man
at slow pace, this woman too close, this other too far: our brains pouting, our
guts pointing, our phones ringing: to nibble sea-grass, or sky-trauma, while
furious with this design: those telic agonies, this losing with song, this
poison stripping integrity: our daughters with anguish, this angry soul, this
withering lotus: this gelada patience; while feuding with social hunters; at
tender concerns this nest of socio-winners: at summers clashing, at romance a
bit distorted, at thoughts too foreign for spirits: our blatant curses, this
struggling gut, this glass too damn empty: my sober mind, this somber coffee,
this lose too damn extreme: but hell to panic, as mercy for panic, to collapse
too near this well: our pushy wills, our Nietzsche ants, our flaming
empires: as built with lies, to adore such lies, to crumble this weight of
lies: our casual responses, after years invested, to move slightly left: those
singing dunes, this raving caiman, this mystic excuse: as running while
peeking, or peeking while gunning, to feel for different realities: our wants
with life, our needs with living, our attraction to immortality: this
sophistication, as doing alikeness, where something appears as different: those
caramel lips, this seasonal balm, this wretched philosophy: our commiseration,
our cognac with pretzels, our maniac chemistry: this fire raging, this soul
damn near dead, this pleasure to cuss where days were enchanted: our blue
music, our red tides, our burgundy gut-wires: as souls livid, racing through
memoirs, a bit too explosive….)
…to
enter sensories, this rising piano, this Galatians Guitar: our Colossians Dream,
this tender backslash, this tender alley: our cans tilted, our laundry sprawled
before this audience: our blaring saxophones, our roaring clarinets, this
attempt to study this noisy attic: our gravy with flutes, our flutes with
chimneys, our chimneys with regrets: our grannies puffing, while eating steaks,
this meal too much to bear: as diamonds appear, this invisible reality, to
sense experience carries its heaviest insistence: those poisoned eyes, those
palatial hips, or more, this chiseling by dear guts: if but perfection, if but
this midnight, to care so little as extending its greatest efforts: our ruined
ecstasy, our tragic existence, or better, this tale where self wasn’t present:
insofar, as living, or those credulous ears, or this need to seclude our
perfect daughters: where chipmunks dance, our internal leaps, to want something
so desperately and forfeit life: this passion as exclusive, our dreams as so
inclusive, to turn at angles to witness travesty….
