…such
rubescent shocks, such colors by lightning, while observing morning thunder:
our bacon over satire, our trillion dollar screams, or awakening to exhaustion:
this sad poet, at existential prose, fretting over possibilities: alert but
sluggish, stitching something unique or reknit reaching for opalescence: images
waft away, sound becomes silent, and irritation bubbles while typing: those
mental films, trespassing old feelings, where transgression becomes agile
perception: our needy tentacles, this cross about manhood, while agonies part
oceans: this fair rose, this fairer fight, while desperate to claim peace: such
misfortune, at epistemic cries, needing more than what we see: such raking
sickness, at midday coffee, where images reappear…. …such dignity, or radical sophistication,
while treading mire: this salsa dance, our aching bellies, our bodies moving in
tandem: at random noises, engulfed but balanced, or whelmed and released: that
other personality, these stems laughing, our souls disputing fires—at new
adventure, our mazes unlocking, our allergies but haywire: to appear to
mirrors, mocking inhibition, and so rapture’d by profanity: those days
languishing, as smaller accounts, where reality seems restless…those apples
seeming edible, such reeking happenstance, where it takes days to readjust:
that dismayed glow, those parted lips, our purest penance—climbing into
quarters, our eyes moist with stoicism, our souls reaching at invisibility: as
becoming rubber, and bouncing forward, to glance at particles chasing: at
embarrassed quarters, as held to yesterday, while some need our despair:
indeed, such lethargic feelings, or academic rain, while singing sorrow….
…something’s
in motion, this feeling equation, this iridescent calligraphy: but days are
numb, or days are overloaded, where flux becomes walls and mirrors: our fragile
egos, our fragile souls, our irritabilities: as fortunate creatures, tugged by
insistence, trekking through seabed anxieties: at memories with joy, or running
fields by elation, where we must protect our inner adolescent: this carefree
giant, but changed by experience, but altered by literature: our simplistic
needs, in this simplistic world, where reality has proven itself by complications:
our deep release, our loosened clutch, our swaying harpoons: at fussy moments,
our complex laughter, stirred by eclectic motion: nonetheless, our daily
giggles, our sworn loyalties, while wrestling with agitation: this crucial
creature, this mental crook, to realize something about ourselves: be it
pleasant or sticky, we hold our dignities, while cruising our deeper sanctums….
We
find ourselves, this extravagant life, so fraught by animosities…our losing
winnings, our winnings losing, our subtle music—as thieves running, or confined
by morals, this thing concerning wrongness:
such adult rubbish, or frightened of living, at our minds debating
consequences: our drawn curtains, peeking at this open wound, while harboring
bandages: such moistened cloths, such leaky faucets, atop a moon at public
features: our brain powers, distinguished by sunshine, while gravitation is
monitored: our daily occupation, as reformed sailors, knitted by ethical bars:
this need to listen, this want to feel, as one reborn but captured by
insistence: to condition self, as alive and well, while, nonetheless,
experiencing tugs: this garden of bugs, our dearest repellants, to nurture a
silent daisy: as found but captured, or captured but debated, where noises fall
gently to seas: our wonderful traffic, our wonderful souls, at something so
wonderful we peek into silence: our leather boots, trekking railroad wilderness,
to sit as one exploring nature: to chase a taxi, this midday mirage, while
observant about our weather: such deep sophistication, such challenges to
preserve it, while knit to certain realities: our reaching souls, our next
office, our occupied origins.
