Tragic Normality: and we say, “I Love You.”

I keep with motion, so asleep and cringing, or so alive and dying: this broken moon, this heathen atmosphere, or trenchant webs disgusted with soul-wars: our guts, Love, our passion, Love, this invisible connection seeming concrete, Love: as men forced to survive, as kettles whistling to Majesty, or claimed for ruined living in palatial shadows: our remorse for winning, our remorse for dying, at terrible, engrained frustrations: to love with pride, to exist with power, or failing for gathered listening to Atlantic voices: this bipolar catastrophe, or feel-good highs, as classified as class one: this wrenching depression, this valve of elation, or this universal nudge—where mother was queen, at fire to fields, where caves became our adolescence: those wretched laments, this core-Jeremiah, or days at something feeling intrinsic: our church organs, this abstract dilemma, or personal concepts unsupported: such kinetic satori, this pregnant gesture, this pregnant introduction: as aloof but personal, or personal but withdrawn, if but to evaluate this hankering disgruntle war: hereupon, this letter to remission, this ballad to Yahweh, or this duet singular but afar: our jota moods, our mesto colors, by sadness adjusted by beauty: this fool raging, this moor in guts, or our daughters forced to believe in resistance: this feudal ache, this anti-universe, this private solitary—where bones aggravate, and children mimic, while grandmother senses this mural of catastrophes: our blanket eyes, our rickety bodies, or joints squeaking in anguish: as born for winning, but denied its kernel, while droplets of sorrow dictate our realities: this twinkle of sunlight, this rushing fever, or this web of silky lies: to feel dramatic, or even distant, to analyze existence as one tragic fib: if but to perish, or but to exhaust, while flipping with flipper—this Asian Eye, those insync Africans, or this European exclusion: as granny watches, holding tight to loyalties, while feeling this scent of ashes: our red palms, this drilling profanity, where skiing seems appropriate: at steel-toe-boots, clashing with doorframes, while insistence permeates our departures: this small lexicon, this trenchant curse, while needing father to be nice: this tale for reception, this song for saints, if but mommy a gentle soul: our snuck insights, our cloudy emotions, while both are approaching a tare coldly—this inner homecoming, that rendered graduation, while woven into destroying a large inheritance: this future distress, this local therapist, at sisters attempting to shed envy: (our mothers proud, if but with death, where gramps becomes emphatic: this tall tale, distinguished by souls, where absence determines our imaginations: this easy slang, this do-good example, while daughters are experiencing hell): indeed, As long as I feel good, and as long as I live life, our daughters can deal with those hells): that King in OT, that child beheaded, this miracle with existence: at honor with shame, at shame with feelings, at feelings with sheer disregard: that nervous hive, our nervous shakes, while parents laugh at highs feeling Jesus: thereunto, this petit claim, this treasured insurance, Your father is a stranger!: in truth, as all was explained, while family members scream concerning free-thoughts!: this modern-life slavery, as coming from slave owners, a bit immersed in black culture: if but obedience, if but complacency, if but utter dictatorship over thoughts: That bad man, that mulatto resistant, this figure claiming more for life than our offers: that cold disease, that triumph in make-believe, where we determined his future: Those cold bars, that sulfur to brains, our triumph over God’s Child: thereto, this wretched soul, this wretched conjecture, where reality speaks its tragic voice: at cuts spelling, at oceans laughing, at piers mourning: those rosary-beads, that Casket Cross, or this belief that Christians/Buddhists are permitted to do as one wills: this daughter-slaughter, this magic if born to living, while destroyed early enough to cause damage: that endless sandbox, this endless defense-wheel, or this permanent exile despite our dying daughters!