I
laugh in private…some thought by Neptune, some tear forwarded, some anxiety and
eggs: our deep reservoirs, this penchant for concentration, this Zenist
Christianity: and oops by far, some sort of blasphemy, or such creative
insight: while Love is teaching, this brilliant Psychologist, and that last
Master’s Degree: this windmill by mayhem, this mayhem by inclusion, or fair
with business beauty: those scary nights, as losing sexuality, our dreams
becoming feminists: moreover, by screams, this political acorn, this demented
social ranking: our agonies nudging, our voices crackling, our grackles resting
softly…(as theologians, or agents for inquiries, or exclusive philosophers: to
pause for elegance, while responding to mediocrity, or arousing a feeling
deserving of interests)…that blue armor, those blue eyes, or this terrible
obsession with fashion: that inner need, as seen by humans, as regarded by
humans: our ninja eyes, our mental huts, or this koan meaning so little: our
black and whites, our colorful portraits, as devoid of humanity. I laugh in pain…some sort of dispute, some
sort of bacon, some angst flowered by intensities: (those miracle dreams, those
intricate dilemmas, or such temperament designed to work with children: or fairer
designs, or Versace Ink, at trenchant dialogues: that mean creature, those mean
disguises, or this person soft with mayhem: that mental evening, this challenge
with weight, or this gymnasium of insecurities: (as pictured perfectly, as nay
a sound, while imagination filters and designs: this madness for androids, this
sophisticated typewriter, this incredible mistake): such toxic beliefs, such
restless evenings, such sleepy mornings: to sit in silence, meditating softly,
while myriad persons appear: that bakery lady, this old professor, or those
disenchanted winds: to need acceptance, to desire praise, while forfeiting
engagements): thereupon, those mid-heart realities, this vessel but mystery, as
rarely a sound by certainty: to presume with insistence, our lilting moons, our
jetty vibrations: that wrung integrity, this wringing frenzy, or internal
hailing pressures.
I’m
song-stressed, those exquisite sensations, this exquisite moodiness: such
fragile iron, such quilted visibility, or this tendency to link women by old
beliefs: our saddest songs, our saddest observations, as pleading a semblance
of reality…this Amazon Creature, this Tiny Vessel, or this Big Bodied Machine:
those christic windows, that cultic seal, or religiosity becoming marriage:
these inner struggles, this whistling rain, or wilting while sensing Love has
adored your soul: this hostage stage, as filled with securities, while our
souls mock our internal Zen: this man to dreams, those long discussions, while
meditating softly. ...(such sonic
rapture, our oceans pouring sandcastles, our minds releasing their shrouds: to
shift this way, enlove with passions, elegance, sophistication, but more, with
perfect knowhow: this miracle fool, this rabid chaos, or Love comfortable
sipping teas: as laughs his pains, or grinds his gears, while perfected as a
winning cause: this inner candidate, this outer magnet, those purple poets: as
less than writing, nay, atop with writing, insofar, as begging a thousand
questions: this plight in souls, to want a burning rose, where adoration comes
through portal musings: such fine reflection, such adequate insight, to feel
absorbed in clear reasoning: as divorced from emotion, if but that instance,
where something snaps into focus: furthermore, a scream, this Feeling Estate, those supernovas: to
transform and transcend, this transcendental estimation, while pondering accidental
insights: hitherto, our hearts, this mental drumbeat, or this webbed jute—as
tying our intestines, while reaching through silence, where one evaluates
richer states of consciousness: as wings settle, and humans alight upon clouds,
we laugh while pained by Love)….
