I
damage gently, peering into cartoons, asearch for something by wings—to fly
conspiracies, to float at swans, or giggle a tinge near breaths: our days at
grit, our women at patience, to possess a second screaming about love: at
maniac empires, at mental Machiavellians, or at soldiers demented in other
minds: our treasures, our islands, to preach sawed asunder: this arrow to
hearts, this torn body, while proffering Jesus: our souls, Love, so meaningless
to most, at inner demons speeding for racing Infinity: our outer caravans, this
mixed President, those unidentified claims: as freak evidence, by sensations,
or uttering slime disguised as Republic: but back our lives, this daughter
roaming, this valley of ivy—those ripples laughing, this water giggling, those
leaves accused of being criminals: to need America, to die in America, to build
a legacy in America: but freak everyone, our knitted, homogenous behaviors, our
resistance sipping puce blood: to dip this life, to aid a swan, to grit with
pains, or faces tatted with agitations: our behaviors, Love, to ostracize
Trump, or to ostracize anything speaking different values, or to die at high
tides hooking our bottom moon.
I’m born political, a
scoop of knowledge, but fervent a creature against inhumanities: to know our
words, Love, to dig beyond graves, Love, while so at illness it’s hard to
exhale: those diamond furnaces, this inner introject, this thing inverted
against darkness: or goodness trampled, while outrages are conspired, where
some are racketeering—as pure vehicles, or slanging for eternity, looked upon
as decent souls: our neighborhoods, our strung out babies, our mothers near,
and meditating trash bins: those rubric needles, this rubric chase, or blasted
by pure Peruvian—but your days are cherries, apricots and dreams—at tragic
reasoning, going too deep for some, while women in Zimbabwe are dying from
depression: this slight tear, those inner psychs, to realize this deep
imperfection: to ask by God, this mechanical question, while outraged at Job:
those tears racing, this day to appreciation, to wonder about history: our
behaviors, Love, as all we possess, while seeming abstract: our words like
secrets, our pledges like loses, to adore so richly Love was trained: at guts
laughing, our stomachs filled with passion, our acrylics giving ease to
pseudo-addicts: at barricades whistling, at hospitals appointed as deputies, at
Africa a bit concerned: *We’re losing our race, We’re chasing our attitudes,
where death becomes centuries by unfruitful behaviors: Our cries at dissention,
Our disrespect for challenges, or these New Founded Friendship Benches—at dear God, our passing our waves, at swans
those kites, or laughed upon for seeming brighter*: we decorate this way, our
dearest insanity, while hating those running their race: our octopus
personalities, our alien frustration, where Africans are redeeming America: our
hearts, Love, to read those inscriptions, Love, to flute different behaviors,
Love: (as young beginners, distracted and gunning, or home with dysfunction:
our tennis with eggs, our spinach with deafness, our grits with lumps: those
churning silences, or running for food, at one opportunity to succeed: but
criminal ways, or animal lights, while threshed freezing begonias: our last
cries, those bright fuses, our face-to-face encounter with Prose: that lethal
ending, or cherished for assertive, to measure heart-meters). I ate a lemon, I dined with alligators, I
became something caiman—chiseled by failures, determined for wings, agreed with
silent intuition: as hatred concretized, or loathsome behaviors consecrated,
our years screaming at desert-cities: by sheer abuse, to utter love, abandoned
to figuring our private languages: or aborted to agreements, as too much might
render a punch, or too little might render a barrage.
