…at
fair physiques, or fairer cries, alienated from sex: as explosive reception, or
casual deaths, this fret, this wind, those outstanding fires: to drift upon
cashmere, or languish upon satin, our sweat imprinting pillows: as long with
dissention, or affected by loneliness, insomuch, our acceptance of cruelty: our
nightlight curses, our poisoned company, or punished by a perfect home: to
outsoar contemporaries, or a companion of contemporaries, while loathing
contemporaries:
…those
stressed fortunes, those swollen dynasties, and upchucking tonsils: our inner
prison, those magnet bars, to resist as tugging comfort:
…at
designed frustration, walking uncertainty, so close, so far, and grogged by
existence: this observant monster, this cantankerous reality, to jazz as
sophisticated: this hard won rule, to bring life into others, while reaping
emotional currency: as told imperfection, at ridiculous promise, where danger
becomes appealing: those treacherous laws, such dependent transgression, our
years through purgatory: to invite tragedy, to welcome false cries, where it
helps to reverberate: to seize contention, this electrical why, where it felt good as long as sewers were fawning….
—abused
and losing, confused with panic or mere too many observations: to read cards,
to maneuver dominoes, to backgammon this reticence: that first adventure, that
glass of cognac, that karnac space: those chips with easiness, our souls with
tension, to envelope becoming church: to pass through dungeons, to enter new
vestibules, to meet eyes spewing venom: I speak of mother, this cherished soul,
to love but dearly dislike a son: this casual trip, as one weary about
conditions, to fail where love was reaching: our fire-hearts, our frigid
replies, or strangers attempting sanctification: at mirror battles, laughing at
nonsense, while tugged by said nonsense: to know aforetime, while ghosts
invade, to realize brains as two phantoms: our shivering mountains, this smoky
cave, or souls at rasps struggling for sandpaper: those sandcastles, this plea
for freedom, those shackles loosened but remaining vocal: our centuries at
love, our seconds at ruins, while real love forgives by sanctions: indeed, this
one-sided coin, our mental rudiments, where it was difficult to locate
intentionality: to infer passion, or to desire luxuries, where timidity
prevented enchantment: this fast enterprise, this swooping whirlwind, while two
have loved void of middle names: at cries and terrors, our deep secrets, where
both are psychotic fires—:
…rebuked
and winning, but a bit too emphatic, running into repeated cul-de-sacs: this
awkward analysis, this cordial warzone, this memory of cribs: at apparitions,
at feral wells, at Rebecca—our Malone chills, or perishing for Diane, while sex
has become mere expression: this friendly game, void of deep destiny, or so
charmed we invest in machination: our brains, River, this cut for jewels,
Ocean, to die if but one chance to engulf sentiments: this fool with problems,
this man with issues, to render unto light one determined to fly: our terrible
eyes, our terrible souls, to have said so little while dying to confess: this
priest watching, this medieval mystic, where one was taught to survive: those
hard tasks, this friendly fire, while aiming for something extra-ordinary: our
bruised egos, but not this adventure, for Love was perfect as mere a muse: that
foolish poet, to glance across a pitted room, to achieve a pitted curse: as
loving this woman, to fall deep at love—this woman, where said woman hasn’t
even glanced his direction: but this becomes souls, rigged, jigged, and lost:
but so aware, to refocus a curse, to exhaust a curse, to fly condemned by said
curse: that fabulous woman, as one such a human, to rebuild a castle screaming
at circumstances: to imagine this for that, to sense something animalistic, to
reinforce a refined vocalist: those earshots, those earbites, while Love was
confused to witness such craziness: this rabid poet, this prose maniac, to
realize those frightened thoughts: as father clenched, or Love was cold, to
fathom something repeating its undercurrent: this dying insanity, this film in
minds, to curse and scream and fall through Love….
—I hawked
in silence, I became smitten, I held such peace: it was roller-kites, our World
on Wheels, such reaching foresights: as abandoned maniacs, this Mad Max movie,
and this Nietzsche hospital: to ponder deep cherries, this feng shui womb, to
imagine a manicured paradise: this budlike nib-let, those remorseful outbursts,
while pensive with prose: this mad adventure, this zoologist terror-dome, or
this botanical ape-zone—indeed, with visions, so cold a Lexus, those pistons as
lethal—to fury with graces, to retreat by instincts, or rudiments so embedded
Christ was struggling: those parallels, this featured war, those jiggling
heartaches: as men running, if but into foci, where weeds seemed so
extravagantly wild: our purchased arcs, our controlled leniencies, where
something offensive took upon a certain appeal: as mad for me, or dead for me,
where Love was held to watch said fool perish: (I must retreat, at love so
often, as one wild about women): this inner canopy, those fertile distresses,
to write and listen: this pleat in souls, to have fallen for damsels, while
unsaid passion lingered in seclusion: to gallop like crazy, to come to a King’s
Castle, where Love was waiting in deliberation: our cut veins, our leaking
substance, to look upon Love as the ousia
of Essence—:
…such
dust and decay, such dusky skies, where death was scribbled in indemnity: this
place for poets, this world afraid of poets, this woman an intricate poetess:
at sheer rebukes, this Woman’s Work, while
destined to run our Kingdom: our inner Hosea’s, our kind Huldah’s, or life too
complicated to vet adoration: so afflicted by them, to realize likeness to
them, to then run as shocked to enter them: as unbalanced souls, this crazed
diary, to write as one losing a taste of sanity: to spurn a woman, as to look
back at woman, while enlove with this
rebuked woman: our deep charms, fresh from prisons, plus, darkened by sheer
mania: those psychotic features, as time and again, to spot a kindred three
miles afar: those lit configurations, those high cheek bones, or that atypical
gaze: as taking in society, as opposed to judging society, where Love was eager
to get home: our fool-hearted cries, our gorilla eyes, or shook for shaken
staring into wilderness: this assembly gunning, this father perceiving, this
mother at sheer remorse: to see us dying, this life so cruel, at ocean currents
trekking into seas….
