…sperm
webs, father’s genetics, mother’s blood stream: this castle by damages, these
smart kites, this infinite eagle—as planned for deaths, to arise in zillions,
at interior music: those swanic links, this sky-cuff, as manic for mesmerized:
that perfect dilettante, those perfect feelings, to realize such rocketed
truths: at balance while delighted, as charged for ruined, where mother spliced
genetics: this lab child, this maniac miracle, while advancing through lights:
this psychologist, this psychiatrist, while noticing deep differences: at
makeup glowing, at veins flowing, where passion seemed so inconsequential: our
bedroom shadow, our den dementia, so cursed it felt tremendous: throwing money,
at lively flesh, to figure for love: at tired syndromes, or nodding softly,
thrashing through traffic: this small circuit, this wealth of attraction, to
adore for differing reasons: this tall glass, this clump of grass, this
semi-short lexicon: those inlet poets, this ruined castle, at adoration spent by
liquor: nearly petrified, stalking interior fog, at deserts communicating with
smog: our morning dew, our dry rugs, while interrogating Jesus: this slight
blasphemy, that courageous army, or months to debating Maccabeus: [(I adore as
dying, to need for comforts, at blue brain greens: those orange lines, to
remember his station, where Love agonized: such anguish teal, such sky-reds, at
burgundy old feelings: to relive Precious, this fair creature, at daughters
with understanding: this Father watching, this Mother knitting, this interior
funeral: our millionth smile, our billionth rotation, our zillionth lover: at
pure hells, while dancing gently, so sullen, so impressed: to arise in Love, to
explode in Love, as months became a young swan: those liaisons crying, this
moon blazing, as Jesus descended: those windy scents, those windy nostrils,
while Love seemed Arabic: this casual counsel, this need for humans, to die
elevated in tyrannies)]: those days laughing, at chauffeur concentration,
somewhere far into Beverly Cries: this lame soul, as needing security, while
imbalanced upon a wave: as died Father, inverted beyond living, while mastering
existence: those foolish wires, so attracted it spliced, while addicted like
masteries: (a true friend, so hard this light, at stale turquoise emotion:
those steaks I touched not, this link as significant, to realize different
treatments for differing souls: at life running, at mirrors with concrete, at
killing this mobile reflection: at Love but silent, at memories distorted, at
ecstasies fleeing into this private landscape: those color-lines, while some
sink with ships, others jump rafts and make love: this small feature, this
nothing in science, while I respect survival): such Purple Rain, such seeing while barely believing, at midnight so
enchanted: to remember our agonies, those thrusts through time, to grip, bite
and tug upon explosion: some type of addiction, this tale you hated, this charm
Father imagined!
…so tortured, so ruby
red, so involved—those carousels, this glib expression, so torn, so inflamed:
at realized friction, to announce, Two
weeks late, as cursed but blessed spinning through feelings: this short
creature, at sophistication, while so distant from classism: those remorse
weddings, this deep incision, wrecked and running with scissors: at pure
rebellion, those days with atmosphere, those tears over Zinfandel, (this lace
with gin)—as time stood at mahogany, as Love rebuked an inner sinner, while
adversaries seemed quite sick: that second go-at-it, so devilishly sick, such
bumps, low frequencies, and pure disinterests: as sunk for sailing, at deep
alienation, while father sensed a new beginning: those color-line rules, these
particular darts, while one person is responsible for totalities: this deep
need, to exonerate reflection, while believing such science: those irrational
responses, this irrational poet, to imagine one volunteering—at music, Love, at
truths damaged, at winters so exhausted, Love: those fairer creatures, this
hankering for Love, this remorse for hankering: at blue rivers, at red lakes,
while churning jasmine dreams….
