…so
delicate to senses, so aggressive with lights, as formed in Greece: or roaming
Haiti, lost in jewels, spinning with humanity: our grave-life, our
sky-arrangements, at souls spacing into lightning: such fair characteristics,
such a vague approach, while sensing something empirical: such non-existence,
such shaky cessation, at battles and winning: this blank canvas, those
ink-blots, asked several things longing: to mis-print existence, to map our
cries, at existential geographic(s): this interior book, while flipping pages,
so reminiscent of life—those snails oblivious, those meerkats questioning
deserts, our taller tales and tragedy: if but such love, to know insecurity,
while a gesture erases hesitation: indeed, such magenta auras, or offensiveness
quite alluring, this chase in souls: at silence and loudness, at rooms and
cages, while unlocked treading our outskirts: this configuration, those daily
mechanics, at peace a gentle kiss….
…we
share romance, as dying to live it, so outstanding a frozen rose: this sea of
chocolate, this ocean spread afar, those intricate shorelines: as men laughing
gently, as Love awakens, where something inconsequential offers promise: to
remove silence, to greet eternity, afloat an island in Europe: such turquoise
waters, such free-flowing motion, our years searching for powers: to invoke a
blessing, while glowing ambiguities, to arise as monsters with tyrannies: our
shattered cries, our purple hopes, fleeing into reciting arms: but life so
remote, and life so capricious, where certainty seems aloof: this daily
challenge, this edgy reality, this sacred church…. I get lost at times, rewound in thoughts,
but feeling presence: this take on justice, this lance at metaphors, our deep
trepidation: fiddling leaves, rummaging soil, and pruning inhibitions: at hours
particular concerns, to imagine Love, as fixing something eternal: such weight
exploding, such petals upward, while trekking downstream: our managed chaos,
our luxury imprints, at voice-marks and arrows: to deceive self, if but to
breathe, afforded parts of reality: this sane man, this insane texture, while
haunted by existence: at prayer daily, if but this release, as never searching
for too much: this sake in sakeness, this vehicle exercised, this subtle
realization: at something deeper, at something philosophic, at something
theological: our ontologies, our cosmologies, our teleological beliefs: if but
to awaken, if but one cigar, while daily at particular thoughts: while
unfinished, while upholstery watches, while stomachs demand something edible:
those replayed films, those telemarketers, as asking for accountability: such
architecture, this mental edifice, at Descartes meditating metaphysics: this
gentle insistence, our touch on arrogance, at moon and sun and star….
…it
becomes fire, those sediments, those biblic curses: as forcing retraction, in a
fundamental circle, while arguments run for millennia—such sweet aromas, such
wiggly vines, steep into this space for fools: at redeemed expectation, and
charmed to believe, while needing foot to mountain: at internal tablets,
sensing reality, approaching something aloof and holy: our madness minds, at
thought-mistakes, our bodies depicting such evidence: as sworn to silence,
where tomorrow seems gentle, but seconds appear harsh: this wheel spinning,
Ezekiel at bones, our beliefs challenging our expectations: this fret in time,
this inlet-cry, at moments needing soundness: if but our lives, if but our
careers, at stakes plucking our begonias: as sent persons, at courage-valleys,
seated in something meditative: our brief rest, our inevitable return, passing
gardens and rebirths: this living respect, those rosemary eyes, as sent to
decode life….
