…it lives by portraits, this
heart-picture, this waving network—to suggest sunshine, as alive by roses, this
flower petals as one garden: those mind-readers, this key inverted, our moons
crying, Jesus: those occupations,
steep in gravel, our dusky skies dusting concrete: this matrix swan, this
lively ferret, those meerkat cautions: this bird chirping, while disguising
voices, to riddle our ways back to earth: with broken rules, for threshing
clouds, this attic leaking pheromones….
I need remorse, I die agonizing, I remove
self from this imagery mirror: those gnawing bones, this floor fan, those
cranes as timid chandeliers: this diamond art, this core insanity, to remodel
an assignment with lent.
…it comes with exhaustion, this fair
ability, to intuit something rebuked: our bleeding drum-sets, this present
corruption, or sights scraping our inheritance:
this cryptic delight, this immortal
shadow, those dark wings—as alive dying, but far with breaths, to achieve this
voyage: our guts ruined, our livers at dynasties, or this lake up to
sides—while born fleeing, as running through wombs, to set as fair within this uterus: these reckless
feelings, this mystery as burning, to chirp an emotion ten years into traffic…. (…those magic magnets, this heart fretting
concern, or this woman but secret these eyes that run mortar): our inner
axioms, this posit for reliance, or those midnight shows: this glowing window,
this welted blanket, or odors that become comforting: indeed, to enjoy our
views, as close enough to resist, while tugged by feelings that curse solemn
pain: those born reflections, this inner film, this reloaded debit card: where
Love sits as perfect, my eyes dying that sentence, or more this fragmented reality:
to cuss while laughing, our Hispanic community, to sip Coronas and die over
carnie asada—this inner enchilada, those cheesy nachos, or this remarkable
chicken salad: as to cut with life, this freezing mentality, while warmth pours
through ghosts….
I became upset, looking at this vicious
nonsense, while collect calling my Conscience:
this revved personality, this insolent psych, or battle to souls strung for
arising—those cliffs in burgundy, this secret as essence, those bars as
internal: to push with intentions, while holding for dear life, to freefall
into this ocean: those whales laughing, this Judah diving, as allowed by greed
from friction: this purple classism, this woman deserving distinction, or this
reversed feeling within its receiver:
those acrimonies, or pure deception, to flee as becoming oneness…this man
laughing, this cheetah laughing, this hyena feeling with passions: indeed, to
concerns, this rabid friction, as alive but seated at council: those rivers
incited, this thirst as unquenched, this soul laughing by ills.
…with swans our dance, with ink our
graves, and with pains our release: this funny fever, this muddy lake, or
prayers to panic while screaming easily: this beige green, those darkened
highlights, this blond swan: if but this agony, to want straight hair, as this
seed planted so early…to chant with Buda, or dine with Spirits, as thrust for
retrieving while feeling unstoppable: those endless chimes, this endless
patience, or this man forced into submission: those green eyes, as pleading
those parts, while deep a cut pushing reality: this dead light, this beaming
light, or courage to embrace Lights: as granny dies, this secret to guts, while
gramps moves sensing shattered oceans: our moving earth, this crust as excited,
this mother as darted—if but to revive, where pigeons are damp, this black
insistence freaking our inheritance….
