...we
plan on dying, abused and losing, or a few winning: this forgotten legacy, this
Asian wit, or counseled for destruction: to love with demons, to live with
demons, to approach mirrors seeping into demons: this reversed meaning, this
casual Caucasian, this blood blue diamond: to walk lakes, squinting at
squirrels, or feeding alley cats: to ingratiate pain, to court pain, to flee pain:
our abused states, loving as never imagined, to grip, die, and come to life:
looking at Beauty, over a mentality millennia, or so cursed it feels goodness:
this black river, our nebulous horizon, our days feeling existence: those ripe
passages, those ripe prayers, at tendencies ripe for plagiarism: this
existential metaphor, on dreams to mimic existence, if but your life, if but
your problems: as probing darkness, listening to banjoes, searching into
nightfall: this loser winning, this daughter winning, this game to mother’s
benefit: for fathers have approached, falling a particular trait, while
divorced from malady: this fair claim, this aim at sensation, while cursed for
despising certain viabilities: this moon rising, this afternoon surprising,
this anxious perfectionist: if but to live, concerned with maximums, this
matrix undergoing evaluation….
…we
plan and re-plan, looking at Gorgeous, a bit pitiful and climbing: our detached
prose, our bowels roving, or blue to livers swollen near upper backs: at tragic
concerns, at love but sickly, at nightmares adjusting said love: this
incredible possibility, this betrayal of culture, at radical claims gnawing
with tigers: our battled bones, our resilient bones, at Ezekiel pleading for
entrance: this broken machinery, this happy element, while looking sick with
penitence: at marbles pitching, at dice looking backwards, at Love keeping to
distance: at gentlemen escaping, while honest concerning features, but ablaze a
curse seeking loneliness: those beige armoires, seated so closely, to effect a
living-room in blood gremlins: (our guts, Love, our features, Teach, or this
crush rushing for failing its escape): at days, even years, with thoughts—this
flying frenzy, this cordial demand, while it felt good to fantasize: our
blazing liquor, this family grunting, as if life has anything to do with them:
this private haven, this twelve piece, those people agreeing with each other:
but life is good, to live in a certain segment, to ignore pure evidence…or
blunted for ruined, at Flintstone beliefs, while nations are evolving…!
I
come to God, tugging as needing, where God looks and passes assessments: our
seasoned thoughts, this inner reasoning, to insist that others sense as we
sense: this war infection, this curse since adolescence, to realize much hasn’t
changed: as wrinkled in hearts, of threshed in hearts, to feel consensus while
feeling disrupted: this inner conflict, those rare pursuits, at evilness laced
as goodness: this inner jute, to believe as God, to figure God as thinking like
us: our purple insistence, to ask concerning reality, where nothing matters as
much as being right: this evil person, this sick person, as God must hate his
guts: oh to feelings, while denying reason, to imagine intellect as pure
emotion: our territorial nightmares, our deep epiphanies, as ignored holding to
one tragedy: this maniac at reason, this tragic realism, while thrust into
feral sightings: but yours is peace, living for logic, but threshed by emotion!
