Thursday, June 28, 2018

Brain Pictures or Mental Mongooses


I sense silence, this blue whale, this situation: our captive glances, this flute with wings, this glen treading his valley: our reworked eyes, our rewound cries, this reference for shuttled insights: those passive macaques, or long-tailed monkeys, or tailored internal mnemonics: this euphonic life, this inner echo, this picture speaking Latin: our here for now, or this revving proclamation, while kindergarteners trace alphabets—our piccolo dreams, our Pinocchio lies, our mental Stewie: as men captured, while laughing insanity, a dream pictured with jealousies: as daring to fly, but afraid of heights, where others are soaring: this infant alligator, this caiman gin, this adult human—at tyranny’s lake, at mercy’s pond, or this insidious reality: that captive feeling, our captive men, our swimming tadpoles: our bones with sinews, our warriors climbing out of graves, our bodies falling to wind-pours.  I met a mantis, I plucked a flower, this exotic sap—those inner screams, this irritability, as but this segment in life: those cranberries, this summer diet, this rooftop gymnasium—as, nonetheless, this instinct in souls, and this California Sunray: to see too closely, to awaken mid our discourse, or to walk away that sorrowful awning: this inner psychiatric, those revving ancestors, this turquoise decision: as far too subtle, this pain for alignments, this man slicing sugarcane: this tranquil feeling, as having its price, where effort is afforded for racing: this urgent world, our anxious urgencies, or this loss for lacking dispossession of self: our itchy flesh, our Sahara Fires, our suppressed rabbits—at thickets by nooses, to avoid tragedy, where a little excitement induces a Doctor’s Mentality.  I wrote Triolet(s), I dined with shame, I laughed while feeling existence: this penchant woman, this firm belief, those cagey investigations: to sing with hearts, to relive and rethink, while affections linger in cabinets: this journal with ears, this silence with vocals, this touch as remaining touchless: our perfect toes, our rescaled intestines, this blank admiration: to cry as livid, or livid for crying, while, nevertheless, it’s much ado about feelings: those casual husbands, or intense women, or both as interchangeable: to sit with apes, to draw a monkey’s blood, where a father sits with daughter afraid by history: whereas, we station with pains, those skylark trefoils, this burning sensation: our analytical deaths, our intrepid forgiveness, our dying enchantments: to border love, but devoid of love, at love as mere a sentimental disclosure: this mood for passion, this science as winning, while many are paying attention to decaying leaves: this ladybug afar, this set of binoculars, or our upclose morality: this captive of souls, our ethical conundrum, or this instructional magnet. 

We sing this life by ifness, or whatness, while attracted to thatness: our used sentiments, our used prowess, our forgotten selves: where youth was wild, and middle ages were dramatic, while old age cleaves to its insistence: those scales falling, our Tobias prophets, this fire as seated upon mind auras: our hearts as penchant, our guts as wistful, to sense with life this pulling gate: if that lake with time, if but to withstand attractions, if but those controlling elements: hereupon, these classic flames, this notorious ifness, this infamous thatness: this dedicated lawyer, this sophisticated Judge, or those insistent doctors: as souls gunning, at oceans scudding, or this persistent office: as coughing up mucus, or swallowing volts, to tear with life this power for sexiness: or casual mafia thoughts, leering into Scarface, at concerns our mother’s ovaries: our resurrected bark, our magician branches, this feud with composing as one feels: this cryptic force, as churning letters, to insist upon decencies: our souls needing life, if but to sing at life, as one passed thirty is feeling unsung: this blank existence, this winning crowd, this motion towards something that disappears like ghosts.

PS.

    The strength to withstand the winds; a spell as it effects/affects some creature. A sudden moment filled with absolute certainty, so wro...