I
simmer softly—I dine in pleasures, and die in specialists—this world war, our
battles in flesh, our scars upon cloudberry bars: this pint of merlot, this
passionate cabernet, or years to re-steadying brain-glimmers: to shift but
strung-out, to redeem and held as guilty, where mother laughs forbidding
access: that last sip, that old nature, those primate instincts—where humans
ponder, as torn through reason, or accursed for logic: those velvety wrinkles,
this unsullied mockingbird, or this damn gnat: indeed, to giggle, living as
fugitives, while outlaws invade spirits: therein, this metal pain, this shard
blasting, this pipe as memories: our mothers puffing, our fathers that
nose-cave, to die with God but afraid: this nine heater, those blocks, Love, or
a million grams sold for thousands: thereat, this drug game, this pistol charm,
this crack mid our eighties: as old men, this foray for lusts, or this unanimous steed war: as heard a
child, debating life, to presume that existence is pain: this frigid father,
this dying mother, this flippant termite: to alive in trauma, to know nothing
but, where Love was born to persevere: this garden bleeding, those silent
harassments, or mauve-red tulips: as petals giggle, this insidious chance, to
prance with Satan: such fidelity cheating, such richness dying, to profane
niceness: at myriad damages, walking through people, or hawking our first
birth: that grand creature, this witty government, as one perished to return to
sameness.
We
switch by love, this gentle creature, this miraculous miracle—those keen
methods, this flavor as deceased, our loins speaking our arguments: such software,
such as hard-blares, to poster upon a membrane: this lively sexual, those bold
splits, this fever to die as lost in sex: that dead passion, to arise an
erection, where love resurrects: that thunderbolt womb, those elderly fangs, to
tear through throats: those signs bleeding, those symbols diminished, this
Scarface catastrophe: that uterus to cocaine, this ball to determination, to
love, Love, as regardless: this chandelier blinking, those glassy witnesses, as
speechless when asked: our roaming orchestra, this field as deliberate, or Love
so precious as never an attempt: to long with Jesus, our Israelite Nation,
while Gentiles were willing: if but to love, as confused concerning, Love,
where hours later we repent for Love: those feudal screams, this wretched wall,
this Berlin dilemma: at angelic legs, or godlike thighs, where calves blew a
breeze too fatal: our reckless guts, this term for prison, those years with
Love: to come to grips, to meet something elegant, while infused a dream that
dies.
I slow
at pace, to nibble licorice, or pamper eyelashes: this Amazon woman, this gutty
endeavor, this batch of fried essence: as born to calligraphy, this mysterious
hand, while drawing our futures: this tall tale, this lack of investigation, or
treasures to avoid responsibility: where God is active, as determining behavior, where our notions are
predetermined: this tragic term, those rhinestone catastrophes, this verse
needing parentheses: our years by torments, our parents professing love, while
we sit blazing jazz: our M.I.A brains, this tragic occurrence, those reaper
mentalities: at guts laughing, to feel this remark—while cursed to endure this
travesty: this cold melting, this heat to freezers, this lukewarm apathetic: where
pale flesh dies, as laughing in havens, to rebirth demanding full attention: those
violet roses, this violet nightmare, to love, Love, but restricted and feeling
obligations: that frantic fire, this trillion below, this refrigerator cooking
lasagna: therewith, those treasured wings, this reckless raincoat, of those
worthless rebuttals: where Love paints in thongs, while hearts love life, to
flee into mountains: where Love arises, sporting new glasses, and persuading in
naked interior.
