I
feel insistent, this distant vagabond, this swami massacre: this river at love,
this pond at hatred, this mixture freaking brains: to adore this Love, while
haunted by insistence, where withdrawals ensue: this pyramid, this bleeding
index, this poetess memoir: this gold shield, this helmet blood, this miracle
demon: as gramps scrambles, as granny bakes justice, as women invert becoming
men: these strange faces, those fragile reports, this agent scraping her
conscious: those ruby brown eyes, this comforting measure, this sneaky swan:
our mothers blatant, our fathers reserved, our souls flaming at tribunals: this
tribal lake, this inner Buddhist, this atmosphere executed: our lemur pets,
this Mercedes brain, this inner lexicon: as men seeping, this pull dragging
futures, this past leaping forward: this mystic amble, this mystic delight,
this mystic as never those lagoons: our geese laughing, our ducks cheerleading,
our hummingbirds courting: this purple parade, this violet breastplate, this
auburn autumn: if but for ruins, this ghetto father, those appreciated habits:
this inner respect, this flagrant sylph, or more to life this outer cranberry:
where mother laughs, to know for insights, while addicts rule our universe:
this bright teardrop, this linguistic silence, this feud redeemed by sexual
tension. I gambled for winnings, I
lost that table, I spun dice where snake-eyes floor insanity: this mother
giggling, this psych giggling, this therapist musing: our guts with Ana, our
trimmers with Huldah, as geared towards passions too immature to claim
excitement: this brutal force, this lonely psychologist, this home-felt
encyclopedia: as fathers whistle, gripping for tugging, while mother laughs as
falling forward: this bed of treasures, this sullen disposition, this awakened
lightning: this atmosphere, that churning heart, this swan as locomotive: this
train-track, this inner Pencil, this thunder born eraser: to write as livid, to
cuss with pure nouns, to live as one desperate for existence: this musical
symphony, this mental maestro, this wand this stick this insistent discomfort:
(I tell for mercy, I laugh at concerns, I thrust as pumping this gas tank: [I
thrive as bent, I giggle at insanity, I love as torn by raptures: this
mentality, this soul-battery, this extravagant confession]: this woman asking
questions, this fool at answers, to sell as diamond dreams: our aches upon
plaques, our tears to mother’s face, our stepfathers imagining their situation:
this gut at liberties, our clocks spitting venom, this fool as thug as academic
achiever: indeed, with hopes, this white world, this quadroon participation:
this mulatto mashing, this face disgraced, this soul capitalizing: this moon
angry, this snake repenting, this world claiming participation: if but to die,
if but to live, if but this gut-rupture exploding into Jesus: this psych
peeking, this man drifting, as wanting a pure intoxication: as opposed to
liquor, as opposed to mystics, as opposed to reality). {…it comes with hells, this spellish
invention, this daughter heavy at penmanship, this ghost, this angry father,
this fool as one day a mentor: to sense this undercurrent, this firebrand, this
undergrowth: our winter in Main, our summers in Europe, our winters in Asia—to
dine in Africa, laughing with grit, at terrible warzones: our steaks with
onions, our dreams with gravy, or better, our hopes with reality: to flip an
outfit, to drift in Nikes, to placate in gators: this remarkable mother, this
insistent friend, this yogi a mystic unbeknownst: those blue rivers, this red
meadows, this breathing core insanity: our brains upon Crosses, our Ankh
blasting racism, where some participate in hating for lost to deceptions}: this
fair gristle, this bone lit, our fathers at thoughts this terrible catastrophe:
if but to books, while seeping into literature, to arrive as thought a villain:
our mahogany graves, this set by rules, this man sick for insane for Love: this
cuddling nightmare, this mystery trickster, this vest a child with passions:
this scythe with tissue, this gavel with persecution, this father as hating
this gift: those dreams at raptures, this mother at sons, or this feeling as
gutted for tragic!
