I’m
lost in mind-stuff, where clarity is swinging, where thieves trespass clarity:
these particles, this metaphysical residue, or claims to victory that remain
silent: those welkin charms, this limestone passion, this seabed of roses: our
courage to exist, where arms are chaotic, where senses gravitate this lioness:
our lakes with wishes; our ponds with geese: or tears to moisten our Legos:
this building frenzy, this perfect caricature, or those worthwhile chuckles: to
exist as dying, to live as powerful, or to perish as florid this pollen upon
ice: our waters as caves, our petroglyphs as nuances, our minutes to preaching
as proving our legacies: this torrid affair, this lifeless affair, this affair
giving life: where mystics garnish and yogis produce cages, while it felt for
life to feign contention: (this inner woman, as seen in glory, to remain as
cold as glaciers: for death becomes precedent, where life is uncertain, to want
for lust, un-featured to return such voyages): this wild man, this mental
camouflage, those pantomime occurrences.
{…if but those eyes, as pure as infancy, where souls are craving this
gust—those ancient eyes, that ancient gut, this treasure as sewn with
rhinestones: this furious slave, those furious antics, or this underground
exclusivity: to die as falling, to arise as depressed, where unsaid attraction
forms its deaths: this ploy to souls, this crevice in brains, or better, this
vice unlocking repressed engrams: that subtle cut, this subtle island, or our
voices bled into soil….}. I panic to
like Love, as scientists panic to entreat, where priests passion this
extra-ordinary sediment: this shift of psyches, this psychological compass,
this mirror bleaching our horizons: this chameleon, this hidden rhinoceros, or
those features too young for existence: this ageless client, this hospital
patient, this feud with self concerning attraction: our harmless repetition, if
but a foolish man, to realize that habits become realities: our gutty souls,
our surreal poltergeists, our scenic color arrangements: *to come to deaths,
alike to feuding mirrors, where bridges collapse mid our trek: that piccolo
woman, those piccolo guts, or this fair exchange of non-touchable friction:
this Jewish perfection, this Yahweh genus, or this prehistoric thing alike to
passion: those scientists near extinction, to find with essence this life,
where reality maintains this clown at multiple auditions: this sagic woman,
this sagic depression, this thing found in wisdom as giving lights: this
thumbprint, this sea-haven, this inner resilient termite*. I augment feelings—writings for closure,
while finding strict difficulties: to want this adventure, this Arabic romance,
staring for aloof to such contagion: this mythical woman, this enchanting
distance, this person perfected at brains: this yearly renewal, this talkative
langur, this rainbow jelly fish: our caiman connection, our wants for something
different, our powers held hostage: as needing this curse, to fall for dungeons
this curse, our aging resistance feuding our attraction: this censored soul,
this prestigious vice, plus, this deep affliction: to ask for acceptance, to
plead for understanding, or to settle for speaking to an actual human: as cells
sting, where dreams forfeit, while onlookers sense a normal minus. I’m sober and sipping, this paradox or
contradiction, where many as adverse to such sipping: this buff planet, this
buff contempt, this animal contemning this animal: to cut with life, to ask
this request, where such if affronted for sheer powers: {our brains uniting, if
but that segment, to arise as dead this good feeling: our marine passions, this
trip to Italy, or this furious retraction: this transient soul, this
intractable woman, as wonder provokes this feint reality: our days to thinking,
our years to hiding, where Love felt ecstatic to eclipse: this game by thrones,
this furious suppression, our battles stimulated from inner pantomimes: that
fool walking, this wayward agenda, our aches to nights looking for more: if but
this platypus, if but that nature, if but our resilience: to sit while
chuckling, our arms at rests, our days as smiling.
