…it’s
been years, this somber sin, this rejected monster: our livid muscles, our dear
charms, our developments deep this remorseful season: our alligator soot, this
elephant dung, this backgammon ghetto: to sense with life, this infant
attraction, this plebian slant: our cursed genetics, our shoebill instincts,
this flooded pond: our brooks uneasy, our conscience bleeding, or this willow
bending: to have for fantasies, this airplane daughter, this sophisticated
vixen, {this wretched essence}: as blue blood money, or appropriate spoons, or
liver smothered in Tabasco: our dreams extrapolated, our winnings as terrible,
our angst as driven: this sole purpose, this soul pain, this mischief becoming
illuminating: this treasure by losing, this anxiety by sinning, this
kleptomaniac beauty queen: our sips of coffee, our distorted playfulness, this
catchy gown: if but this life, this four-headed calmness, this psychiatric
war-exhibition: this sightless majesty, this cool composure, this infinite ache
exuding deliverance: this application, this mystic observer, this fair friend:
as needing admiration, if but this event in life, or more this impeding
recruitment: our mothers to energies, our fathers to skies, our souls
remembering our grandparents: this handsome woman, this sophisticated gem, this
intellectual monsoon: this scholar of dreams, this Tuskegee giant, this round
of playful noise: this deliberate approach to language, this ability to spell
complicated sceneries, those slightly suppressive vows: our minutes to clarity,
as refusing our sketches, to know for our terrific intestines. *…I remember infatuation, staring at our
contour energies, where recently I gazed this countenance: this fair woman,
this abandoned dream, this pain riddled through happiness: her dear capacities,
this woman as warrior for Yahweh, this person a warrior against depression: but
throng to brains, this insistent feeling, this amazing wonder: our ankle low
dresses, our sophisticated anklets, our beige top suits: this time to need, as
aborted to grasping, while chilled for perfect this storm of dreams: this
cabinet mind, this sight too difficult to forget, or that churn looking over
one’s shoulder: those intellectual insights, this man to restrictions, this
land as immortal: to scatter as lizards, or flee as cheetahs, while honoring
this husband’s lot: for life was reaching, this pan of chestnuts, this man
recruiting for dear existence: as a man thinketh, as so he liveth, while his
wife personifies justice: so angst to love, while settling for experience,
where it felt like hell to feel such adrenaline: this rush of prose, this
inward griffin, or our tender cerebrals: this song blazing, this feeling
crying, this remorse as blended in memoires of Princess: if but to dream, if
but to live, if but I were enough: moreover, this catastrophe, these hurtful
words, this man rebuking his posts: those incredible lenses, those incredible
brains, this talkative feature: indeed, to trespass, as believing it as normal,
where private folks demand a touch of distance.* (…she’s so naïve, and so smart, and so
gifted: this immortal charm, this resonant personality, this catchy laughter:
those pyramid realities, this mental geometry, this acting with easiness: those
genius psychs, this deep trepidation, or this feature constantly appearing: as
if to privacies, this musical opera, this presence in stillness: this watching
woman, this dying legacy, or more this father I needed to love: if but to
risks, if but too risqué, if but this woman that knew his reality: our dearest
sisters, this mystic observer, this slight intrusion: but life was present, and
energies felt pain, while eyes presently drip: this courage in deers, this
tiger to snows, this stepfather as feeling his passions: our growing priests,
our rhythmic nuns, or this pushy for abrasive tendency: our authority
challenged, our guts to fires, our essence bleeding humilities: as casual
beings, or reckless mice, to push for perfection: this lovely granny, this
fearless father, this great treasure: as borne to missions, this inner loquat,
this mental pomegranate—where granny was pure, this lovely woman, even her
cigarette breath).
