…early
to riots, early to mother, early to loses…at terrible science, adverse to
patriotism, roaming dark ghettoes: at memories lost, at airs surviving, oh,
this life of inversion: to want with silence, to need with passion, while
converted by dysfunction….
…we
loosen tragedies, if but to fly, while consumed with particles: our rowing
arts, our visual galas, conversing with gila-monsters: those early nightmares,
those all night shores, or so detached it’s hard to seek: while semi-this, or
quasi-that, or reeling in father’s reality: at travesty and gains, this odd
mixture, but temperament determines survival: to see our deaths, to dissect
those fragments, or to ride our horses: something positive, to know we live,
while sullen and remarkably incredible: those reigns slipping, this regret
abolished, where others are seen clearly: those survival instincts, those gears
in triumph, to confess a piece of existence….
…to
move by pictures, inverted and remaining, or pilfered and relieved: our
daughters to thoughts, those private libraries, those internal typists: as men
fallen kegs, or women needing devotion, where some are apt to survive: that
infamous word, as signifying itself, while defined by its incorporation: this
older feeling, while talking that talk, where reality walks too closely: in
agony roaming, in Love multiplying, while properties state we must hold
tightly….
I
admire women, as realizing mother, that ten dollar bill—those neck bones, those
potatoes, this three day meal: our lights, by mere courage, those restroom
trips: that first this, that last that, those first inhalations: our cartilage
laughing, our noses falling, too fresh to sense reality: those tall mountains,
this sexual death, at something as should be relaxed—or treasured, or sacred,
or consecrated by rites: that Scarlet Letter, those ghetto labels, or one
feeling closer while consumed: that first taste, those sodium brothers, this
fruit island young soul: at millions upon senseless, at billions those casinos,
at trillions for that one woman: to circle empires, those years to deserts, at
such intensifying moisture….
I
remember feelings, to make us awkward, to state facts in behavior: that fair
flesh, to believe in miracles, while learning our inhibitions: those deeper
cries, to need affection, while adverse to intimacies: this sick soul, those
adolescent years, while confused about romance: to become a believer, to go
that mile, with an aptitude for sentences: this insecure beaut, this incredible
intensity, those Wonder Woman calves: as bent with terror, to fall so deeply,
our episodes so demented: to feel lakes, to nibble game, to invest in Ballads—or Triolet(s), or rich concerns, while
churning our indoctrination: that smelly stench, those odiferous bodies, or
those remote-control-eyes: at souls but treacherous, at deaths but living, or
so charming we miss travesty.
—early
to nonsense, early and captured, plus, early and jaded: such deep inversion, to
possess distrust, but forward with admiration: to eat an entire month, by rice,
chicken, and eggs: or to sip water by facet, while boiling water for baths, or
so at home it feels good to argue: those radiant years, those radiant women, or
those soft scented grits: (early with lessons; dead with facts; as one too
condensed: at miracles living, at church kneeling, at pastor a bit inquisitive):
those questioned behaviors, followed with controversy, at rites and
baptism—this lengthy journey, this scriptural warfare, those notions concerning
grace by works or works by grace: that chase for wisdom, that chase for
Felicia, or those charming bodily parts—
