I
felt haunted, spaced through agendas, laughing a sickly hue: our bones choking,
our lungs at vomit, our brains seeking peace: those miracle images, to invest
in memories, while sprung upon a nightmare: those vaccines, for every culture,
while void for ghettoes: those blood blue scars, this terrified banjo, or Love
seeming but perfect: at guts giggling, our last high five, before life became
treacherous: at language arts, to fuss about words, where incentive struggles
for breath: our sounds mingling, our hearts at cadence, where loins behold
bars: those rosy, heart-shocked eyes, those strong, resilient thighs, at
memories pushing through her womb: this cocaine giant, those fifty pieces, or
white men needing colored survival: at ruins bleeding, at Love a distant
memory, while parrots parade in practices: this inner fool, so enlove, as
scorned by mother: to check for pedigree, to inveigle his terrors, while laid
so close our brains reverberate: at time laughing, at horrors but frantic, to
realize those husbands battling for clarity: our shy, naïve, even misthought
women: at mystic revivals, at séance inclines, to awaken gripping for sheer
deaths: our spoken clarinets, our silent drums, to approach Love sick but
feeling goodness: this inner stomach, this blatant curse, at white women a bit ignorant:
to Prada excitement, our dancing ultrasounds, while mother was Mary a deep
secret: as never for life, but ever for life, while enlove seeking rationality:
this irrational circumstance, those manic memories, as pushing a life their
own: thitherto, this robotic approach, while fleeing this exotic brooch and
cleaving fires!
I
watched you, this fair flower, this misread demolition: to scream at sex, to
laugh at omens, where silk became infatuated with velvet feelings: those round
eyes, that almond seed, or seconds so close to enchantment—to fail horribly, at
needs with purpose, to shift a man from zero to a thousand: our terrified
intestines, this blood blue oval, or treacherous for endowed: our depth denial,
as living through energies, as dead women awaken to heartbeats: such
discomfort, or radicalized demons, while Love chugged a fifth: that old woman,
that violent woman, as accused of misdeeds: to find Love, this remarkable man,
as giving courage to breathe with fury: at crosswalks, lingering in guts, to
withhold a fatal passion: to feel it creeping, even moving, to awaken to slime
and beer: at mother but programmed, or existential mad-claves, this inner
miracle cave: to fury with silence, those last cords, or organs so rich our
favorites have reneged: to die this passage, at terrible favors, to love as
adored but failing discourse.
We
met with treachery, a daughter as a peg, while claiming terrified love: this
last line, this 55 north, or channeled for exhilarated headed south: those ties
to proclamation, this faceless monster, at prose speaking longevity: this daft
magician, those daft cries, at miracles to sense that one minute: as deep in
omens, those graves with longevity, at eyes speaking tongues: this fair
survival, if but that womb, at sensations laughing but inherited by loyalties:
that shaky woman, those endless riddles, but never a thought to ruins: as men
gunning, while Love is battling, where two for one this bloody music: our
saffron daisies, our cryptic diaries, while death was sure to bless us: this
inverted creation, those inner alphabets, or to sense for running this
magnificent imp: our bodies meshing, our bowels at Jesus, to upchuck a
neighbor’s lung: at refined heart pianos, or found cheetah bones, where it felt
death to love at tyrannies: those relaxed limbs, those heart-shaped buttocks,
or breasts longing for understanding: at furious lows, our noses runny, our
intestines rewriting encyclopedias: if but for agony, or but for adventure, to
thrust a night awakening in total aggravation: that small smile, alive in
motion, where salacious arms grieve.
