I
gaze off, looking into air-matter, amazed by silence: this strict reality, this
presence with life, or dark reminders: while minutes recoil, I pause in
alertness, while something moves gently: this flying force, this volcanic
passion, our souls sluggish or heavy.
…at seam contradiction, so alert but sluggish, so revved but heavy: this
space in our kind, typing with uneasiness, while raking a new imagery: our
minds empty, our awareness keen, our acute souls tugging logs: to imagine
sources, to imagine differences, to again put such nonsense to bed: this other
contradiction, empty but tugging logs, where consciousness becomes anchors:
this biblic, but heisted word, this mnemonic element, this subtle approach: our
permeated references, our watchful regions, at harvest reaping to maintain
livelihood: to water crops, this daily agenda, to becoming thunder in Love’s
eyes: our champion moments, our conglomerate souls, our easygoing
complication…. Energy lives gutted,
thrust from wind to soul, as supported by intelligence: our agents gunning, our
angelic equations, or feelings needing their redemption: while flying gray
skies, or cooking gray meals, our gray minds from source to image: to dance
gently, in, otherwise, hostility, realizing subtleties that remain silent: but
life is normal, abashed by un-normal realities, while arms reach for
imagination: our introduction, this essence we live, as so did parents our eyes
glistening: where arts are laws, where literature offsets, while one might near
escape: our precious dysfunction, our sacred hostages, as metaphorical
energies.
I
return from gazing—knee deep in trenches, invested in miracles: to obtain
something, those battles to maintain it, or this need for constant
enchantment—this regular excitement, where lazy souls lose, while requirements
can become tedious: but familiar passion, defers to Love, where said
requirements are periodic: this need for facets, our diamond with existence, to
entertain in multiple rooms: to have career, to have children, to have Love:
indeed, this family life, with extended parents, if lucky, with regular,
gifted, prima facie grand-souls: our deep requirements, our overwhelming
inner-clock, at feelings needing things to flow smoothly: our cakes with
feelings, our children with questions, our bedrooms with existence.
…we
churn ideas, we feel enslaved by ideals, in essence, gravity yearns against
itself: this pull and tug, this inner compass, this constant evaluation: our
moon fantasies, our inner resilience, or this touch of melancholia: as moving
upstream, communing with salmon, watching those feral leaps: our greatest
intentions, met by our greatest desires, while we need existence: this penchant
in time, such brevity arts, while inseams are pleading for permanent satiation:
this man with sorrows, as imposed from within, where a simple thought shifts
our moods: this emotion in essence, this essence in intellect, while Love is
gorgeous pondering self-worth: our sky-terrors, our skies falling, our dreams
so enchanted: as never such a person, or never such a vision, while mechanics
seem offbeat: those places in space, those mental aircrafts, or sudden upon
interior earthquakes: at years by meditation, at years by seduction, at years
by womanhood: our dearest rites, while laughing gently, or swigging a Pepsi:
those logs as pushy, our arms at home, our legs trekking our carpets: our
children into something, our Love gazing deeper, our seconds with harmony: at
daily rituals, even something simple, while many realities have become diluted:
our morning coffee cake, those sweet crumbles, our minds waking up: our sights
in traffic, or young energy, while seasoned with temperament: at lights
searching, at caress and notion, at motions defending our morals: at
indoctrination, but active brains, while too understated: those penchants in
life, our probing inclinations, or those fantastic unrealities….
