…we
die cleaving, this miracle candle, so close to fire it hurts: our brains
yawning, our souls to gravel-wars, if but to live at angst’s lobby: those
swanic cries, this wave at mystery, our inner person redeeming: at granny’s
conscience, at grandpa’s bowels, to ask for living religion: this soul’s bacon,
this spaghetti entourage, or souls so lost it re-pictures: at earth moving, at
traffic speeding, at daughters spewing something honest: our teachers rolling,
our priests laughing, our professors so low it screams agony: this literature
run, this pistol voice, those bombs displayed in public: as father dances, as
mother giggles, while remoter cries hide with anguish: this existential, this
maneuvering core-war, or those few seeming imperfect: at perfected eyes, at
perfected satellites, while aunty read a book and became essence: this
forefather frenzy, this Lutheran paradise, or spasms fleeing Inquisition: our
souls, Adored, this flimsy maze, at feelings feeling rawer: our eyes flaying,
our minds gutted, if but to disclose this yogi: such super-knowledge, redeemed
and suffering, where Jesus gave clearance: our Siena Television, our Theresa
Nuns, as mystics churning for loosened into cosmos: those bubbling hostilities,
this era for survivors, to realize pain has hit every soul: this connectedness,
our bloated vows, at memories so cold we rethread insistence: at Love aching,
at miracles riding, even at sky-cliffs: this maniac poet, this maniac calmness,
at psychs listening: to sense souls, this reborn market, our agora-passions: to deliver an anxious
prose, to sense plural advice, while cut for destroyed: our wakeful
theologians, our living propositions, while pragmatic concerning this dilemma….
I
passed Adele, this deep emotion, and craved to flee: to adore you, in spite of
you, while realizing this constant development: our brains, Love, such rich
meditation, this fool magnet: at cries concerning mother, but life will
replenish souls, while knowledge becomes this friend: those mystic Buddhists,
those mystic Hindus, those mystic Muslims: as livid insane, for life is a
miracle, where sperm chooses parents: this choice in us, to possess such
friction, if but with teleology: as ontic/ontological souls, relating to
something foreign, while bottled with hostilities: our passing frenzies, this
feeling on Sunday, where clichés are peddled for alms: indeed, this magnet
mystic, this seeming atheist, while so religious I met something: at courage
your eyes, at courage your soul, to die feeling good: where mother screams, as
if this world, while wiles seem to speak in tongues: at granny’s door, this ear
to posts, our slaves claiming freedoms: to roast a turkey, to smash potatoes,
to pretend all is well: this furious black soul, this courageous white soul,
while running for charged into oblivion: at Purple
Rain, a bit nostalgic, to remember it wasn’t all terrible: this terrific
Swanship, this outstanding Swanvoice, as restructured feeding upon life’s
experience: as infuriated minds, sensing something unreasonable, but forced to
lay claims to something hurting: where individuality is outpost’d, while
seeming appropriate, until views collide in midair: those wonderful grains,
this wonderful potentiality, those infuriated glasses: our love rolled asunder,
our vows bleeding science, as one submits to envied authority: as mimics,
speaking unbeknownst to hearts, while one realizes this shift in philosophies:
(our brains, Adored, our lively aches, this mirror speaking its language: to
force compliance, to complain at roots, if but something sweeter than vinegar):
our scars gunning, this terrific outcome, while running from authority: at
lemurs smiling, at cheetahs a mimic, at apes ambivalent: to spaces with sloths,
this miracle slowness, while swans are becoming wiser: such independence, as
lurking blatantly, while rude eyes are ignoring: as becoming stronger, to force
agreements, while lights are blinking in Haiti.
