We
gush with pride…We swoosh by accident…We cold this river: that ceiling upon
fire, this opalescent remorse, this dopamine curse: if but those calves,
laughing insanely, or tatted with flowers: this dolphin as drowning, this fish as
swimming, this symbol indicative of courage: our mountains bleeding, this green
blood, those dazzling problems: this inner pyramid, this iridescent Psych, or
born to bowels breathing bone—at lakes with Jesus, at Jordon with Elisha, or at
heaven those traumas giggling with Elijah: these power meetings, this falling
sky, as afraid of acorns: this worm musing, this page slimy, our ink as putrid
invisibility—that man is chains, this iron milieu, or madness so appealing love
has shed distractions: our kaleidoscopic winds, this kaleidoscopic weather, as
birthed in deaths proffering mother her vinegar: at shakes and trembling, at
sherm and shackled, or needing close to a zillion friends: if but acidic rites,
this powerful ass daisy, but torn for refuge fleeing mirrors: our guts, God,
our tempers frozen, if but that esoteric confidant: those first trophies, this
wrangling insanity, while golden for oceans yelling at Jesus. We die in humor, our eccentric feelings,
our flamboyant disgusts: this small, invisible creature, those midnight eyes,
those refulgent lips—at cures giggling, at father giggling, at superiors
giggling: this man with grins, this person alive, or those rumors as burning
truths: those dialectical gem-pains, this deep hubris, or cut for ruined
giggling with Jesus: that film at seven, or our evening News, where Love
screams at carpets: those well-born nightmares, with sullen appeal, to imagine
possessing something that heals: our gravity laughing, our skies carried, our
stars pillaged by science: if but those eyes, or but hat lustrous derriere, or
those lucent, sherm’d-out brains—where life is bleeding orange, at rainbow
purple, to exhaust an impassive closeness: that bright dead woman, our
remarkable sex-lights, while laughing at three a.m.: thither, his sickness,
those chromatic elements, where love stabbed his guts: this power in words,
this flippant knife, or rumors to surface running for security: that redeeming
figure, this return to deaths, our treasures as seesawing: if but to live,
attracted to hysteria, where psychiatry has a penchant for lightening: this
rush in brains, this living-room swoosh, this gushing world-fever: as
resplendent monsters, aiming for leviathan, or a ten-horned tiger: where mother
awoke, claiming for her son, to abuse with tormented education: at otiose
agonies, a blinded mind, while aunt speared a young vampire—that fool gunning,
this cop maneuvering, to look at death his son’s breaths: if but to ruins,
those spicy lips, to ask for major assistance: this clutched existence, this
existential monogram, or this elusive, brain-fair manicure: our bowels your
name, our guts your pain, this man hiding from this pregnant shadow: to remain
distant, thrust into traffic, while cleaving to something placating invisibility:
those turquoise apes, that cyan elephant, or this raging fully dead gorilla: if
but his brains, running in deadness, as awakened by a tender palm: this
magnificent woman, this bride in desert-green, as ruptured this motley of
examined aloofness: to kiss something living, this dying miracle, at tender and
various colors: our varicolored minds, our penchant for clear whiteness, if but
to redeem this falling black skin: that trenchant psychology, as found in this
space, where Love is laughing at our treachery: those off-white breasts, this
lactescent vacuum, or love so enchanting and so enthralling—to need this life,
to remorse this life, as occasioned a dead-life pushing marathons—this love:
our guts raving, this typical innocence, this spent and radical scream: to yell
with Yahweh, to dive with Jonah, at miracles laughing with Aaron: this coarse
atmosphere, this longing moon, our bloodshot eyes explained to granny: this full
perspective, this wrestling miracle, while gramps tugs tightly to diving
insanity: those nacreous hopes, those nebulous tendons, or God deigning such
mud!
