…such
two-toned spiders, hanging into infinity, such hazel-green antennas: such fair
flesh, such ruthless psychiatry, such attic/antique ghosts: by steep allure, pictured in perfect facials, at
terrors this private persona: our daily graves, our pills with juice, our
banana nut muffins: as souls gunning, to pause through motion, our lips
sky-blue pink: our sultry blankets, our dotted entries, our positive this for
that: as one ambitious, as one aggressive, or so passive it has become anger:
this field of meerkats, our liquids with Hawaiian Bread, our liquor but just a
taste: at Dior perfumes, or Gucci socks, infused by raw interaction: our
manipulative rites, our African furniture, our jewelry from Haiti: those in
office secrets, such femininity, or ruthless antics: to become Tiffany, so deep
we can’t reach it, so engulfed our home-base is running….
…at
beauty reporters, a friend of science, but too detached to breakthrough: at
rational intimacies, our glasses for attention, our seduction for selections:
such ivory mandates, in this ivory-dominant-electric, at fears concerning
spacial reality: our hydro-planet, or conglomerate beauty tips, while at panic
this essence by love: our granny’s cooking, our Diesel Denims, our provocative
this for that: as souls gunning, or soft spoken, while life has become its
stage: this age of pomegranates, our oranges with plums, our sugary worms: to
watch in fury, this flaming tug net, by just a smidgen by ankles: to ponder
anklets, or rosary-beads, or donations to Latin America: our southern/northern
personas, those flies, those cries, our eyes dripping mire: as radical this for
that, or demanding thinkers, while poised just enough to bleed….
…watchful
for damaged hair, thankful for complexion, or concerned about existence: our
inner Sartre, our reckless Camus, our God Fearing Kierkegaard: indeed, such
limited feelings, abounding in deep meditation, to unlock soaring into
hemispheres: those days with shamans, our Elvive Elixirs, or such wrenching
pain to witness an elephant passing: those lemur instincts, those macaque
eye-prints, or becoming passive-aggressive: as years swoop into focus, our
similar cheek structure, or years to deeds in order to fly…. We come to conquer, this misprinted
intention, or weeks recounting lashes: at jest with feathers, at laughs but
self-conscious, while yours is blueprints: this twist through churns, those
rebuilt antennas, this life with children: as one wrenched and wretched and
willed into tortures: this place for lower chakras, this area of concern, where
some would rarely extend such drastic sky-squares: as mere souls, searching for
fuller and thicker, or at tender mercies peering at our soulmate: indeed,
creativity is motive, this poet’s need for muses, while comfortable to remain
grounded: this life of high-rises, this slop through dungeons, while still at
normality claims: our potent, sour candies, our Sandies with pudding, or our
nights wafting a grape….
…our
serums with vegetables, our sensational boosters, our running, or jogging, or
skating in spirit, if but too frazzled to dream: this slant into mystics, this
grave seeming so proper, or merely a batch of spoiled strawberries: as words
mean so little, or words have roots, where such by stars our souls
reverberating: this global mystery, as carrying more than wings, while we
distinctly sense through variations: our moonshine with prayer, or maybe a
cynical glare, while so skeptic it feels good to conjure energies: at slight
distances, applying Neutrogena, or tanning upon an exotic ocean: either/or, or
maybe both, we exist as passing by….
