Thursday, September 27, 2018

Underground Witness


I’m at underworlds, this Super Inclination, this Supper with Rivals: our meeting frames, our terrified guts, this balloon of butterflies: those made for symbols, that wretched orchestra, or Beethoven at tyrannies: our bladders full, our inheritance dismantled, our souls sawed for inflated: this gut-war, this mental game, or pieces becoming life like: at 40 days by fasting, or this contour glowing, to break (fast) with strawberries: this blueberry tension, this cherry deranged, or our bodies disguising ten heads.     …it’s been raft rides, this canyon of oceans, this wellic cry: as bent for surviving, at longings for newness, to acknowledge those tears spent writhing for sophistication: this inward churn, this burning edifice, or trillion dollar episodes: our daughters laughing, our daughter’s feelings, this shy, bashful, aggressive creature: our nights in limbo, our mornings at breakfasts, or evenings playing our parts: this inner film, this inner grin, this professor analyzing glaciers: this theologian fire, this poet igniter, or this engine tweaked to ensure our rollercoasters…our sakata passion, this esoteric mentality, those few psychs confirming our eyes: this bleeding hip, those acacia thighs, this cypress sap: at inner music, a bit infatuated, while adoring living, but tales are gray: this life by infractions, this wild eyed mulatto, or treasures distressed for wrenched: this pliers empire, this kingdom dynasty, or hours to admiring Korean Calligraphy: (as getting lost, this manic composure, this maniac brain: this filthy drug, this cherished belly, at soldiers devoid of feelings: this soul watching, this killer waiting, at thoughts our daughter’s intestines: to stab a Porsche, as standing out-of-bounds, spray-painting an iguana: those deep phobias, this serenity of psychotic features, a bit alone fleeing this island: our ecclesiastic rites, our Ten Commandments, or this palm of goose-grass: to respond to illness, at nostrils grieving, to remember father losing his cartilage: thitherto, or partial insanity, to cling for purpose behaving inappropriately: to expect full devotion, as one reaching holy legs, while life has become make-believe: those tall towers, those scraping bridges, or silverback eyes: this ruby sun-gun, this tragic rug-pain, or days to moistened cloth: as one a bit angry, where others are perfect, but Love moans and rants about every night): our escapes deranged, or hopes for more deception, our eyes pleading another soul's heart-shatter: as feeling for sanity, while cut with illness, to demand total loyalty: this mule gunning, this man laughing, where bullets hit atmosphere and return: this misfire, this missed-brain, those missiles at core-penchants…such sickness by genius, such water through dryness, or arid personalities sudden to bubble lively: this mis-garnered woman, this mish-matched gasoline, or songs un-scored and ruined in tempo: those fine apples, this green loquat, or years to trekking through ghettoes: to meet, Fantastic, to need, Fantastic, while underdeveloped for, Fantastic: this moving frenzy, this treasured reality, this captivating, Brain: as one refocused, or to need for one season, while scoping for kaleidoscope honesties: this fool at ceilings, to drill a tiny hole, while rain ensued that evening….     Seriously, it’s un-cool, Love, this addiction adults swim through: these myriad realities, this tribal game, this kill for breath: our nut-crackers, our trenchant disguises, or to love a woman and vanish: this need for condoms, this breath for insistence, while one day Love will embark upon marriage: this lucky friend, this fevered insanity, this white dress: if but for cloths, if but for dreams, if but for instances: our burning earlobes, this tragic episode, this inner movie: this tale for ass-kissing, this black man running, this world to Race suggestions: our camerawoman, our Kodak moments, this capture in engrams: those otiose realities, those small negotiations, where arguments lose nuance: as one would say, or one might assert, Some arguments are trite: but reason for passion, to understand those feelings, as opposed to being swayed without deepness!

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...