I
offended castles, as bleeding hatred, as cursed leaping over obstacles—to give
this life, to something oriented, as casual but vicious: this tale about
mother, this absentee father, those intricate uncles: this family war, this
cross-cultural influence, this hip those beats those jeans: as livid and murky,
or dark with lights, afforded several accusations: our granny’s child, our
father’s rejection, our mother’s everything: in trenches swimming, in gutters
laughing, or ghetto born as ghetto sworn: to return to Love, this sensitive
creature, those bold defenses: as living while dying, as needing assistance,
but cut by mother’s words—this pheasant becoming an eagle, this eagle becoming
a king, this daughter as too remote to locate: at metaphors laughing, at
detectives debating, at lawyers feeling sensations: this Jewish legacy, this
Jewish enterprise, or reaching for growling but hungry: that frightened, abused
puppy, that meerkat cage, or those deers content with utter simplicity: this
human dirge, this lamenting casualty, those platypus nightmares: to die with
grit, to gallop until it shatters, to gristle atop moonbeams—that treacherous
theologian, this quick demonization, or something current as an infant
undercurrent: our blood-shine, or delirious grapes, or pistols forming as
shoving guts: our reborn losers, our in Yahweh winners, or chuckling over
giggling hyenas: this running curse, this florid bash, to break for battering
windows. I baked a parasite, I ate a
worm, I grinned and sacrificed:—this red island, this sage assistance, this
cuddle fish: as blended, Love, at deaths, Love, but courage felt good, Love:
those ferns prostrate, those daisies mourning, or marigolds whispering: that
old feeling, this new arrival, those tresses parted for, Love: as built
elephants, or ramming rhinos, or ruby green sensations: our fathers those
years, our women those centuries, or to know your legacy: those political
views, to awaken onlookers, where it felt good to eat and talk dung: that
powerful life, this coming vote, that registration: as full participants, or
marine paragliders, or army features bleeding mother’s reality: to come to
senses, to breathe while deceased, or to witness how family-life ought to exist: that precious friend,
this envy exchange, this winter for thoughts: as unbarred, or cut for speaking,
where Love is afraid to sense his mother: this radiant curse, this forceful
parade, those balloons becoming outdated: this needle poking, this brain prodding,
this patience as demanding—that languor’s persistence, that cheetah’s
determination, or our Hamilton inquiries—this last movie, that radical shift,
while others are exonerated: this fair adventure, as becoming a rapper, where
fools tread quicksand: as more to life, this Poet’s Empire, this daughter’s
inner whelp: to cactus a feeling, this sandpaper whispers, or to dance while
others watch intently: as one exclaims innocence, another exclaims melancholy,
while another speaks to something un-sensed—this stinging-ray, those tortured
seas, this lunch for exchanges: our rotten apples, our treasured apricots, or
days to chunking our tangerines: at remote emotion, or trenchant emotion, while
others sense but a vivacious torch. I
drift as missing, I sing as glory, to offend as losing: but life is magnitudes,
as hearts are fraught, to accustom events as representing a whole culture: this
lie in souls, this lie in men, this wickedness in our glories: that small
voice, as trampled for giggled, where one grogs insanity: that Welkin Queen,
that Dear Survival, while other women are quite distressed: or Black Kings,
afforded pure grace, where others are quite wretched: those few tender waves,
this One Voice, or this mystery returning for captured but unbeknownst: as fair
creatures, or motion creators, to hear a song and ponder precious curly locks:
this blessing overused, this diffused lightning, or raging fire abandoned to struggling
a therapist: that blue-black-badness, this terrible-trenchant-tragedy, unlike
born-but-belittled: at intelligent inquiries, receiving trite clichés, where
pain becomes passion: this troubled seal, those perch-oil-spills, or blatant
disregard for mind-frames!
