…at
life those graves, our slaves of chaos, our mothers’ agony: our inner sisters,
our aborted daughters, our rising anguish: this fretful portrait, this wailing
fetus, this angered debate: our fathers at liquor, our brains growling, our
half bodies (our pigeon faces)—as men cleaving, our thoughts to deserts, our
ubiquitous fears: this bleeding antelope, this rabid deer, this mental crush:
to love as sickness, this course with souls, while deep at denial: this rinse
with Dove, this buttery oil, this last anointing: to figure this life, those
respected eyes, those respected thoughts.
[…it lives as hunger, this cheetah gunning, this lavish mistake: our
hearts greeting, our souls asleep, our keen insights abated: this miracle
feeling, this extravagant pain, this feel good hatred: as fear-God- passion, this luxury womb, this frantic mind-pressure:
our days to Chinese rice, or our years to gourmet tacos, or this death those
eyes this foreign woman—as local thieves, our sexual rounds, as fretfully
unique: those linguist souls, as decoding antiquities, as reliving our babbling
insanities: this craving sun, this pleading moon, this crying hope: where sons
collapse, our brains too heavy, our guts filled with acid]: this repenting star, this viable Venus, this
antic Neptune—as sensing our physics, accustomed to mishaps, becoming our
agriculture: this pruning maniac, this psychosomatic tentacle, or this law
abiding psychotic—as esoteric leapers, this agency cult, (those souls reached
for)—if but analyses, to thumbprint insanities, to scale a person’s prowess:
this motive with lights, this core as wreckage, those mountains as jealousies: this
fair creature, those catlike features, this purring maniac: our itchy souls,
reading about love, this study at Corinthians—our medical science, our signposts
casualties, our minds equal with few: this dreamy miracle, this open vessel,
this friendly majesty: as sensing sleeves, our beating brains, our fleeces as
hearts: if but to panic, this soul we lost, this woman we needed pure
access—those violent cries, those wrenching parallels, this falling into white
castles. [I saw science, I heard
science, and I wanted genius: those incredible bolts, this atypical vajrayana, or this living room of gardener’s dust: our
caiman chameleons, our customized chaos, our celestial caricatures: as but
flesh, this pilgrim’s ambition, where thoughts capitalize intentions—our
beautiful souls, this rabid calmness, this eerie future: as fortunate passions,
laughing by nightfall, fiddling spider-webs].
…at
life those graves, peering at local eyes, or staring at foreign features: this
exotic rainbow, this passionate suppression, this valve damn near explosive:
this fatal gridlock, this fatal grip-lock, this imaginative tsunami: such
mahogany atmospheres, such by American ambience, while too perfect to refute
realities: this cagey soul, this falling as retreating, those Cambodian eyes:
our nights to shadows, our days to boxing, to meet with vigor determining
trust: this leaping over puddles, this vein upon leaves, or mere this shared
pasta—as casual foolishness, this rose with hearts, to mean such as insatiable
calamities: our hopeless romance, our restrictive siblings, or this soul battling
with perceptions: as genius with costs, or normality with curses, while both
carry a series of splinters: (as eyes watch, where souls grovel, to feel for
perfection another’s anguish: this rare sun-clip, this cinema marsh, this
indelible heart-impression: {that rare countenance, that too ecstatic beauty,
those limbs speaking Latin}: as romantic sentience, and rabid slothfulness, at
static reach—this grave for souls, this easiness for souls, this captured
horizon—while seeking permanence, this fair intrigue, this sensual nightmare,
this allotment to those fairest by jewels: those rosary roses, this raking
reality, those roaring railroads).
