…on
many occasions, to lose dynasties, refusing my mirror: on several accounts, to
knead prayer, embracing my mirror: those few women, such dynamite, where men
act unruly: as no rules, born to sickness, comparing others to mother: such
transference, to restrict his guts, to convolute his vision: if but this
introject, seated at his bed, to argue unto submission: this cold island, this
fuming odor, those closed closets: to irrupt in madness, to sense his body, at
remote tendencies: so pristine, so challenged, where relationships have doors:
our miracle minds, afforded this sanctuary, while needing ruler-ship: at
kingdoms a glint, whispering our Kalahari, so Jewish, so Egyptian: at movies
adoringly, seated in dens, sipping Scotch: as so human, discounting complexion,
as wild as something unmentioned…. I know for rain, looking at something
disappearing, our silent converse: at ruminations, failing his domain, so
close, so distant, raging with fantasies: that awkward encounter, such airborne
repression, such outstanding estrogen: our graves breathing, our miracles
waning, as disputed by mirrors….
I
sip gently, over a guarana pill, waving passed destiny: this tale he told, this
lie we envelope, those precious, soul-centered eyes: to adore you, this miracle
child, while investigating my part: this daily routine, this chiseled
night-spawn, those earlier in fears: our impassioned moon, those others by
caravan, to soil digging for oil: those windmills, this milestone, at classroom
etiquette—to revive harshly, this intricate concern raving, while women claim ownership.
I
passed a church; I met a nun; I perished in such irony: this pastor’s curse,
this deacon’s sin, this wrestling atmosphere: such hellbound attraction, while
needing refusal, if but to conclude a particular distance: our minds pursuing;
our bodies reluctant; where irrational ideals seem to conflict: if but by
saviors, running through Ethiopia, our lands so planted: this tree for oxygen,
this spoon for denouncing, or terror so bold it felt terrific: those few women,
at redeeming perception, while ruining ideals: to sense elevation, to witness
denigration, while many are suffering from depletion: our souls mingling, our
minds tugged, our bodies discounting those ideas: at something cagy, this
fantastic image, this curse—if but such insulation, those silver-rivers, where
we attach particular sentiments: as loving feudally, or reviving in character,
such fire in forbidden attraction: those purple eyes, those accentuating tights, and foolish men.
I’ve
denounced nonsense, feral at living, while contained by consequence: our
marvelous children, our territorial delights, or arguments I failed to attend:
this future in webs, this lie in diamonds, our needs by our galaxies: to have
for perfect, our souls, our dreams, our children: to see tears, this deep emotion,
at times, a portrait for blackmail: at fortunate feelers, needing to fix debris,
or simply changed simultaneously: at river-stores, at sea-chores, our skies
up-side-down: those photographs, our red roses, our mothers seeing all but
self: so critical, so harsh, so demandingly absurd: pushing directions,
inciting balloons, toppling into reflections: at once, frightened, at once,
disputing, where science seems irrelevant: such as logic, such as reason, such
as systematic deception: to watch it tumble, this weed in deserts, where one
never acknowledges something irrefutable: at golden eyes, at ashen memories,
while wrestling particular inclinations: this Rescue Ranger, this Batman of
Gotham, this interior Superhero: indeed, a smile, laughing and feeling literature,
while one has slipped into memory: our feudal ethics, our redeeming morals, or
this tinge of pure darkness!
