Palming Garter Snakes

…those richer habits, those torn regrets, something special, something unique: our raging eyes, our inner noises, such mental animation: this cartoon world, our cartoon lullabies, our afternoon meal-shakes: pondering baby wolves, or petting mental cubs, or taming an interior bear: such mirror gossip, aligned with spiders, and swatting webs: at miracle emotion, considering such volcanoes, perceived but un-believed: those cheery tears, those cheery yelps, to have intimate disaster: those films flickering, those hearts raving, at casual star-glances: if but our lives, this scratch and sniff, at liquid or substance: those marathon cries, those marathon eyes, giddy over Claudette: this mythical creature, and rightfully so, in this world filled with wolverines: thereabout, those speaking leaves, our deciduous passion, our laughing islands….

I met Superwoman, I watched Batman, I reminisced feeling justice: those interior wells, those interior lakes, to siphon soon more reality: our deep windbreakers, our souls floating away, our channels increasing intensity: such rubescent roses, to purchase meaning, by something so significant: at appropriate music, at air-sockets, or electrical padlocks: to pick gently, to unwrap sentiments, to get so close it aches: that inner coach, our wafting Agnes, our members haywire: thereto, those small gestures, as building a castle, and trespassing sandstorms.

…we get sad, simply through arts, our interior taking its presence: such deep resistance, such vintage emotion, while tried and treasuries: our narrated existence, this mystery reading our behaviors, while altering based upon our reactions: such Freewill, such exoneration, whereby, we need something excellent: such high intelligence, such irrefutable diligence, at tears condemning our wits: our perfect souls, at an imperfect assembly, while ruined without proper notion: at fair deliverance, or gila-conflicts, while running and needing ownership….

…at blackhead irritants, picking our memories, feuding our dreams: those distant reptiles, those evolving feelings, to plan something excruciating: our welted existence, our beauties with joy, our toads streaming our veins: at mythical reality, or holding to Promise, at something quite resistance: as just for tyranny, at pitted value, our volume increasing with aches: such pressure with creativity, such power with loses, or pure logos with rain: if but by breath, if but by alterations, if but by something resting dormant…..

…we starve feelings, we suppress appetites, and long into our royal skies: such leaflet screams, or radical passion, ambushed by tarantulas: those sad songs, fulfilling comforts, our droopy eyes: this faith walk, hampered by humans, where claims speak to religiosity: we chuckle sorrow, we dance with joys, we absorb indecision: such fiery aches, such sky-cliff majesty, to realize this threshing called, Love: at rabid calmness, alert to something foreign, at mountainous remorse: at water so pure, palming a red eyed frog, while lurching into internal therapy: a tinge too smooth, a feeling too grand, at something so delicate, so rough, so outstanding….