I
think aloud, penchant for degrees, too evolved as one flying: this resilient
cage, this infamous wisdom, those torturous games: at flames our evenings, but
fast asleep, or up for segments: this inner clock, those radiant pearls, at
diamond eyes: at birds whistling, at charms pulling backwards, as one aware of
carrying foreign laws: this sentence in men, this life in women, while both
fight for realities: this justice farm, this lake in valleys, or this brook
near lights: those Universities, this doctoral essence, while pleading for
existence: those blue bloods, this blueprint, at angry silence: to die feeling
good, at unawares, to beg forgiveness: at bags with thoughts, at windows
mourning, or so close melancholia has struck: so responsible, so diligent, so
denigrated: our work systems, our plain Jane(s), our extravagant winners:
looking for praise, looking for paranoid, at thoughts to sense them seeing: our guts, Love, our sounds,
Love, our demonstrations, Love—as souls gathering, over loafs of bread, or
living by Our Eucharist.
I
drift into life, confused by bruises, at laughter feeling crooked: this sight
in essence, as never made straight, but one chasing glory: our wretched woes,
our wretched happiness, our wretched passions: while fretted in souls, or
abandoned to winnings, where one cares less about existence: this theologian,
roaming through doctrine, a bit concerned about experience: this salvation
gravel, our soteriology, at pace scribbling in margins: this black face, this
Faceless Man, or this Asexual Spirit: to slice our veins, sneezing as
trickling, while Love abased this logic: our running arms, this mystic observing,
this soul at Greek Literature: our wildest brains, our livid cries, to fall
forward lunging backwards: at paradox and damages, at stoic advice, or a bit so
cynical—abashed and ruined, but trenchant our return, making ten year plans:
this faith in Naïve, this reckless sunshine, or so gunned for skeptic peering
into motives: this cruel adventure, this lively curse, at Egyptian geometries:
those passing queries, this lasting animosity, to realize freedom comes with
letting go: as forgiving agony, or
plain for wars, at courses feeling irregular: that inner spice, those winter
leaves, at deciduous emotion—or studying our Jewish Laws.
…it
was science, our cryptic casual, our dreams gunning—if but to panic, or but to
live, while tugging at energies: this Christian Fool, this Maniac Liberty, or
this Cautious Insanity: at mother pleading, at granny forgiven, our aunts
slipping for rewound: at guts for penitence, at miracles laughing, while
conformed by logicians: this sluggish train, this Narrow Gate, where burgundy
carpet splayed in particles: such demanding screams, our beds fluid patience,
to look at a fretting stranger: this close friend, that one insanity, our
bowels speaking in Swahili: at deep cages, our unlocked apes, this inner
pictured gorilla: or pictureless greats, too high for living, to aid in
scribbling Seduction: at hangings
low, at bears tickling, at hyenas laughing—this master of honesty, this mastery
of decisions, to resist in God this mystic punishment: our grand appeals, this
room of peers, at life gutted for experience: those mystic conflictions, this
tyranny feeling good, at literature by forks and spoons: that slithering
maniac, those slithering insanities, or running for greeted as a normal
Prophet: our bleeding projects, our ghetto legacies, our families hating for
ruined: to frown upon Jesus, at God’s Business, where thoughts seem
influenced….
Dear
Granny: it felt with passion, this purgatorial book, to know for origin: this
lost pain, this gear in forward, this reversed soul: as here again, to return
again, while thoughts seep into spiritual business: those inner portraits, such
calm wisdom, or gasoline to refined furnaces: this mystical curse, this
irregular pedigree, to beg for pleading too deep at Darkness.
