I
saw ghosts, this facial yogi, this resigning monster: this execution, this
revving soil, our palms laughing with nails: to interrogate life, to garden
cries, to plant screams: this overgrowth, this undergrowth, those revealing
skies: as maniac contestants, that very thin line, to approach a client with
tactics: this itchy flesh, those small scabs, this trickling blood: our
Hydrocortisone, our Neosporin, or this deep rust those pink pills: our rich
trust, as capital clowns, or random victims: to outwit scrutiny, to pass for
normal, as years unravel this kamikaze.
I saw eyes, this yellow scarf, that brown skirt: such neutral colors;
such reversed letters; such paradoxical closure—where canines gather, at laying
prostrate, those casual barks at glory: that capturing sketch, those relaxed
gestures, this queenly estate: at Victoria’s sin, at Jonathan’s battle, or
wings growing softly: that fantastic alarm, this railing sensation, to die
beyond consequence: this fragile warrior, this failing lieutenant, or our
female Bishops: as distorted with clarity, to confess with vehemence, while
chipmunks barrel into visions: this large spider, our dripping venom, or casual
but daily infatuations: this spinning roof, this rising rain, this leviathan:
our heart-trees, this branch to Love, this cut leaf. {…is it invisible, as pure misty experience,
or too real for conjecture…this mental-heart, this mental soul, this chase for
clarity: these few tears, this index by rules, or aches by shivers: this tale
of daughters, this distrust for women, this alligator rudder: our silent
ghettoes, our super-vision, or our wants for something uncouth: this man’s
loss, this pearly gate, our prestigious souls reaching for something raunchy:
those torn stockings, or that vulgar language, or far removed from ‘normal’:
this log and fire, this fire and song, or romance becoming something conscious:
our eye contact, our selfless caress, or dreams sitting in plain view: this
vulnerable condition, this jazzy, savvy elocution, this rich evaluation: those
trails to membrance, this shift in covers, or those forbidden cries: as men at
seconds, our women at minutes, to enjoy with purpose outdated music: our
deliverance, this mystic crane, our days lusting for Mariah: this soul
compromised, this son devastated, or this client for integration…}.
It’s
by far unreasonable, to desire something unwanted, or to un-feel something that
has its roots: this Aaliyah beauty, this Monroe charm, at mysterious deaths:
this immortal breath, this seam in breath, this classic relaxation: those
diamond eyes, this old feeling, this desire to out-root insistence: that
bubbling essence, those mental flies, this troubling resistance: this one in
millions, that sentimental thought, as concerning soulmates: as soon jaded,
while soon an optimist, for some click beyond measure: as hypersensitive souls,
or satirical souls, or aggressive competitors: this ‘norm’ for some, this hell
for others, or this feeling where tolerance is exhausted: at cupid with
vengeance, those outstanding warrants, to wonder concerning tragedy: that
wicked alliance, this wicked scar, this sheer insistence that hell is glorious:
that river of victims, this life as nonchalant, while roaring in city caves.
…you’re
exotic chance, you’re erotic dance, this place in miserable palaces: those
iconic guts, this inner Deliverer, this psychic iconoclast: this ruler of
silence, this shifting miracle, this machine adrift academies: our irreversible
prints, this thought to elude science, while brains are computing our daily
hours: this need for rest, this need for hearing, this tear from seeing: or
callous shadows, or callous depositions, or callous just to maintain breaths:
this intestinal cleaners, this meadow of serenity, as to return to city
affairs: this watchful life, as tiptoeing winds, to come to grips too late: our
running women, needing immediacy, for shame travels to souls: this flickering
flute, this trespassing flame, or this small furnace….
