Monday, August 27, 2018

Ghosts & Habits


…it’s an unusual space, or conscious air, or attempting to re-dream: thereto, this private reality, or analysis concerning havoc, or stress evolving into heaviness: as dreamt to expel, this estuary of cries, where thoughts attempt to outwit circumstances: our warriors at wraths, our lawyers at documents, our maestros at orchestras: this thin umbrella, filled with pinholes, as acidic rain trickles across our knuckles: such ambivalent designs, or sky-haven disappointments, or dispositions that belie inner anxieties: that garden of fish, those few hummingbirds, or an excited host: as souls running, if but for closure, to realize brains are opening: this velvet resistance, this inner persistence, or this need to begin a reluctant project: to witness formation, while becoming intrigued, to arise hours into such journeys….     …while nibbling fruit, I noticed a gnat; I ignored that gnat: as washing palms, our inner cups, to examine closely this growing hypocrisy: such feudal fruits, such dynamic resilience, or driving daily to win: at hard-won practices, effected by practicality, or anxious to draw water: this radiant damsel, at father’s well, and chosen for marriage: moreover, our deep decisions, at war with habits, where personality is difficult to revamp: those private disgusts, those repeated practices, or wonder to why we can’t refrain: wherewith, are scars, and pervious charms, while souls churn over threshing-boards….

I remember travesties, existential whales, and metaphysical giants: this wealth of habits, this lack of resistance, this flowing tragedy:

…as born with ghosts, listening closely, but hearing little: this subtle nuance, those required particles, or foreign filters….

…we rejoice softly, while palming our ceilings, while creating our images: this phantom surprise, this glowing indifference, or sudden upon humility: attempting to rekindle, or attempting to re-bundle, where we sense a certain disconnection: our wires floating, our dreams haywire, our valves negotiating: this fleeing feeling, where self outruns thoughts, where mirrors remind us of our habits….

I revisit gnats, I write about things, I sense this relation: our faculties excusing, otherwise fleetingness, or, thitherto, this alienated behavior: our bodies moving, our minds ejecting, or two at sync distressing our societies: as casual realities, or manual philosophies, or growling habits: at prowling feelings, or academic emotions, where spirit glistens in turmoil: our frisky lives, our inner strife, or caricatures mocking our morning dew: this rule for love, this slight variance, or that paradigm for deviation: as pulled souls, or clinging insistence, or abandoned to ploys.

…our mind-felt miracles, our needed protein, or that tablespoon of Folgers: as living souls, hanging by shadows, but alive those seconds: that windowpane witness, this slight retaliation, while sensing something needs alignment: those running passions, this need for desire, or playful banter: our jesting abilities, our accidental involvements, or thrust into this world of ethics: this deep rivulet, this raid upon sentiments, or this carry-along mirror: those bags of luggage, that neat briefcase, or that torrid memoire—where life is debauch, this corrupt feeling, at wonder concerning such discipline: at miles to justice, at inner funerals, at weeping passions….  

Empty Space

    I’ve been in this space before—it seems natural, the affection of energies. Such interwoven moods, a series of underpinnings. A differen...