…we
commune lightly, at cherry tree patches, a tear fixated: this blatant curse,
this human enterprise, to sprinkle a sad man: this facial glow, this woman
ready, this family so closely knit: our dreams, Love, our screams, Love, or
caring little about breath, Love: this vex burning, this immortal ceiling, to
investigate a winning God: as fretted psychs, or games this vice, at levity
feeling guilty: those shrubberies, this grape vine, or loquats with gin: this
ghetto fruit, this ghetto music, to meet at tension a ghetto mistress: or
classy our aches, this passionate sorrow, at cuts and terrible bruises: to
suggest a problem, to blame his curse, while to ignore his blessing: this day
to miseries, this name too repeated, or this feeling for something strange:
this violet feather, this jasper sky, this marooned island—as differentiated,
or secluded, while latent this burst: our rivers, Love, our tears, Love, or
this miracle so patient it cries, Love: as lucrative dungeons, this dart
digging, or its target askew: those few women, this sophistication, or admiring
grains we can never clave: those jasmine symbols, this yellow ark, or treasures
so rich we file bankruptcy….
…we
met in summer, we cried in December, or something so crucial this powerful
machine: those languid diets, or chemicals for deliverance, or this remarkable
group: to sense something esoteric, this close call, where authors are centered
by cultic flights: that Hindu Psych, or Caucasian Memories, while quite
enthused to sense Jerusalem: this Judah heart, this Lion Grave, or behavior
becoming quite annoying: avoiding his prayers, seated at kettles, and feeling
quite aloof: this caricature, this Life in secrets, this conversation at such a
distance: or women so precious, or dreams so annihilated, while Love became a ventriloquist—or
something cursed, or something becoming a desert, or something singing with
Merriam: this fly-death, this hot fire fly, or years at a table sensing this
disconnection: our spiritual rhinestones, this attitudinal whetstone, or days
to despising his temperaments: this treble under-base, those colorful seconds,
or this beautiful evaluation by screams: that livid heart, those angry skies,
or our gods becoming humans: those last pavements, that abstract concrete, or
hunches seeming unfair: that mental grackle, this gutty hummingbird, or this
intestinal grave by antics: while Love laughs, or crumbles in fears, to carry
adult pressures: this life by addiction, this winter by afflatus, or something
too foreign to diffuse….
…to
swamic existence, to sip in hell, to traffic a key—as men bent, or dice a
million, where exists are harsh: our brains, Love, this fair event, those
dropped tents: our deep projections, our last cries, or mornings trekking
through book-camps: this sacred vow, this feeling for passion, or a dream for
something proving exotic: this felt lose, our cities to fires, our blocks
seeming our governments: this lethal reality, as cops invade, to show for
uncertainties: this last tress, this limbic mystic, or born for failing as
finally a winner…. …(we grow too
fast, listening to blues, and sipping something crucial): this mental dragon,
this inner bane, or poison so sweet as losing virginity: that first feeling, to
lose all feelings, while searching for that first feeling: our jutted prides,
or miracle years, where men tolerate something becoming his curse: those jota cries, this miserable memory, or
passion so thick we dismiss myriad infractions: our mesto ceilings, this mystery in caves, or seconds to witness a
clever psych: our brains, Love, this feudal advisor, this uncanny counselor: at
ferric incisions, such immortal iron, to pop this last pill: our grannies
dying, our fathers to prisons, or aunts too proud to suggest wrongness: as
lethal creatures, or madness our dreams, sentenced to blank thetic replies:
this person with ego, this ego wrestling reality, or theories proving as launch-pads….
