We
amble woods, those thick barks, as such infant creatures: our distracted souls,
our ample guts, our marvelous emotion: to sit with ants, negotiating terms, or
trekking through winds: this low estate, those solemn feelings, our audible
hearts: while trying more, or becoming indifferent, or passive mongoose: such
large realities, such large brains, such disenchanted wilderness: as peaceful
in context, such as humanity, this exchange of behaviors: our semi-sadness,
this presence in souls, our needs becoming internal: to shift with dance, to
chance with vocals, or to reappear to self: our self-conscious branches, our
leaves chiming, our winds settling: to happen upon cobras, leering at
chipmunks, ignoring our observation: (to leave our woods, to travel our cities,
to need excitement: those turquoise feelings, or campaigned thoughts, while
coming to senses: such florid beliefs, at moments with hopes, or sudden upon a
wave of gentility: our language eyes, our casual observation, our wings
flapping): thither, this reality, this particular salt, while mixed with lime:
our winter souls, a bit tired of cries, a bit pensive with breaths.
I’ve
entered feelings, approaching beauty, realizing, for most, life isn’t that
serious: of course, feelings are, if negotiated softly, but mainstream is a
series of activities: at life’s entertainments, at life’s kitchen, at life’s
busy-ness: such glamour science, such pure reality, if dullness doesn’t set in:
at pit resistance, needing variance, needing entertainment: as curious
creatures, laughing with essence, or haunted by glee: (those pictures, our
artsy minds, or this creeping uneasiness: as more becomes less, our gears
sanded, our inclination hebetated): this realized perfection, to enjoy life in
doses, while too much thought becomes problematic: our hard places, our needs
for memories, our interaction dependent upon realized love: at attributes, or
steep converse, or loving convergence: our song, our ballet, our relational
orchestra!
…what for solutions, a rippling hobby,
adrenaline careers, even a precious family: to sing with temperament, to read
improvements, to chime with souls: this taste for life, this need for balance,
our minds steady at checkpoints: inner interrogation, mind-filled exercises, if
seeking passion, a spiritual activity: this atypical glowing, our brains
decorating our contours, if but consistently: this woodland empire, those hefty
forests, our moments coming by return: or too low to drift, or too high to
settle, our scratchy instincts: if but radiance, as charmed our souls, if but
too much to appreciate: where ours is resilience, this inner clock, this foggy
mirror: if but by reality, while aligned with reality, notwithstanding, such
irksome reality: our cloves with meditation, or purity with investigation,
where reality becomes crucial insistence: those rare temperaments, steady at
interior interrogation, while observing existence: our talkative habits, our
talkative dispositions, our silent needs: as painted vestibules, or unveiled
cedarchests, or song fed sorrow….
…we
close with joy, realizing this life, or struggling to master emotion: this
thrilling excitement, this shrilling reality, this need for less resistance: as
falling, into, or feeling, wherefrom, while pressed against
assumptions: our curled intellects, our penchant intuition, while realizing
presence: to know for daughters, to guide sons, or to hold tightly our
inheritance: those green pastures, those greener sceneries, or our movie, our
playwright: as giving souls, longing for reciprocation, while tugging with
balance: our hula-hoop dance, our jumping-rope, our intimate monopoly: those
silent answers, our talkative faces, at something uncomfortable to conquer: indeed,
we long for creativity, we need social reality, we examine private reality: as
merging with passions, as interlocked souls, while retreating to exist….
