…lavender
prayer war, or carpet maniacs, while composed enough to mingle: this shoot of
soot, this inner vacuum, those leaves that auburn texture: those centipede
wallets, this grandeur mentality, or humility split in heinous parts: to alive
again, while feeling low, where a thought your current strikes admiration: this
psychotic reasoning, those bold flowers, this petal ten years his freezer: as
men living to perish, or Caleb after her heart,
or Cinderella deprived of normality: this fantasy world, this grim-reaper, this
hallucination—as women feeling good, for feeling feelings, to alert a soul this best friend: our Blues blazing,
those BB knights, this cryptic responsiveness: our helium, Love, our driftwood,
Love, or this cadence while avoiding that letter:
as deep in substance, realizing those brains, but too afraid to juncture
with existence: that fool in armor, this impeding war-free, where souls die and
finally arrive…. I luggage life, this
fair creature, but alert to pregnant existence: our yogi teas, our yogic
insights, our yogi insanities: while Love is painted, in some sort of mood, at
our responsibility to tug her free: that mystic ransom, those cherries with
rum, or this liquor trip to mars: as infused diamonds, peering at aesthetic
damsels, while maintaining a kosher distance: or reasoning through excites, or
cycling our bicycles, where Love arises speaking Hebrew: that Neptune trip,
this gut to bleeding, this daughter too ashamed to reach Pluto: if but those
stories, as all that one has, as failing to dig into deeper motives: this
hateful reality, this treacherous plight, while stunned to witness fireworks:
(by God’s flavor, by God’s ashes, our father at Hindu rituals: this underground
insight, this blight to fields, this threshing to brains: if but to exist, if
but through perception, while reality has your last name: this fever girded,
those whistles silenced, while agony builds to repress emotion: our melts with
bacon, our tears with dirt, or soil so rich we exist a third fire: indeed, our
imagination, or crazy at women, this inner resemblance): to flee confetti,
those papers with font, those imprints about lutes. …we swig a cigar, we sip a beret, and we
play harps: this hemp relation, those years to gutter insanity, or those bars
reaching where mother couldn’t: this
fervent passion, this mental attraction, or cadence displaced and feeling
dissatisfied: at Marvin giggling, despite such travesty, or settling into
manhood: this trenchant aura, this different appeal, those grown, distinguished
women: thereto, this incision laughter, to witness young boats, and trying so
anxiously: those skeptical halls, this vestibule of doors, or that left
entrance: at years but disappointed, or treasuring Bootsy, while enthralled by
three marvelous kids: (to die with us, flavored in Divinity, or seated fiddling
beige grass: that desert-like insistence, this penchant for water-groves, or
blue fairy-dust sprinkled into human auras): those esoteric keepsakes, those
persons too dear to discard, while Love has died giving up existence: this
terrible reality, this sentient response, as realized in fifty eight mirrors:
this square as sensed, this foundation as seething emotion, to come to Love as
never such a climax…. I went flat,
for several years, thrust’d into hospitals: this therapist reasoning, this
psych but five seconds, or realization that we make instant decisions: at pure
impatience, relying upon something tried-and-erroneous,
while life is dependent upon erogenous zones: this slight faux pas, but
digging for interpretation, where appeal through sexual energies has a deep
effect: that numb feeling, this Double
Dutch existential, or epistemic gymnasiums: if but to live love, or to
disperse from existence, in order to analyze resistance: at foolish claims, or
permitted to run marathons, while each essay is lacking a crucial ingredient:
our bowels but wanton, our needs but everything, where minds are wistful for
something new: this minute to second ‘thing,’ or tears watering ferns, or this
cactus sustaining existence: at red waves, this valley of marshmallows, or this
cognac with liquorish: our valves, Love, this imperfect figure, Love, but all
for moreness this ethical conditional, Love.
