…oh
epic tinge, those screaming bars, this solid steel: those weeks amidst, those
months rewound, as something prehistoric: those blunt eyes, those blunt
features, or days clammy and humid: this sweat closet, that teeny light, this
vocal silence: our loud souls, those inverted reasons, at tasks feeling uneasy:
as placed in mayhem, reluctant to bathe, or eating but morsels: our traffic
eyes, our gutter secrets, at love with something filthy: this hate for self,
this adoration for love, to rewind, step into clarity, and carry a small
village….
I
felt an oath, as terrorized idols, as traumatized innocence: that horrified
gaze, this plate of side effects, or children at adult warfare: to enhance our
masks, this sweet melodic deception, or numen disabilities: that twinge of
agitation, those psychological gripes, this feeling causing somatic tears: that
valor for adolescents, as mother’s confidant, as father’s disease: at black
magic, to reach invisibility, as timeless mental grinding gorillas: our blank
stares, this inner seer, as suggested an illness those years she lived: those
cold lies, that self-agent, while discerning something weary: those thetic
scars, those ferric letters, or too disregarded our totems!
…oh
epic tinge, those inner degrees, our nautic mysteries: oh friend of pain, this
light so enormous, this darkness chiseling walls: those deep pits, this
realized abyss, as pantomime receivers: our locked bodies, our American
Foibles, our American Puritans: this case study, this dogmatic iron, this internal
war-care: such rough fiber, such rough souls, such impatient reasons: our gongs
slammed, our bongos at rituals, our fires as explosive: as something scorched,
as something torched, as something misidentified, mislead, and miseducated:
those menticide seconds, such deep discoloration, our candent internalization:
as pendulums suggest, this swinging ape, our nights seeming unborn: those
frozen heartbeats, this gaze-like pond, or our sleeping leaps….
I
would feel amiss, if but to ignore, this lore in souls: our strong stressors,
our in mind-flutes, our clarinets: as men shook above, or trembling in low
states, at something a bit abnormal: that last dispute, our morning eggs, our
warm links: to read in silence, each page with noise, each ear-print with agony:
our certain cares, our imbalance, our ruined receptors: if but more patience,
if but more compassion, than but more love: to see patience, to render
compassion, to rinse in love: this life of flowers, our petals dying, as we
await our coming season: to leap with anger, to vibe with frustration, to need
this particular type of love: as rounded miracles, or silky graces, while
ignoring something unexplained: those cherry fires, that swinging pendant, this
valued key.
…oh
epic wrench, please unbolt harmony, please unlock Divinity: this glorious wind,
this unquenchable science, as thrust into clouds: those silver
threshing(s), this hectic memory, this tiny inlet: as watery mystics, or
serious Physicians, at physics with sunlight: this page in Reality, our faces plastered, our souls cut and pasted: to vanish
with license, to reappear with silence, while anger looms by reasoning: our
polished behavior, our groomed insistence, or years to chasing philosophic
gems….
