…soul-food
manias, but every millennia, as captured edging into rivers: this lazy
instinct, to address this Empire, as charged with a daughter’s spirit: this
fire leaking, this heart aflame, our spectators enlove with truths: those
jagged axioms, this phlegmatic picture, those crossed agendas: to irrigate
Christ, to relish inclusiveness, to sing glory with maya: such effulgence, this slight affectation, this ventriloquist:
to hear your voice, such intimate distance, while doting over cultists: this
maniac war-call, those faultless profiles, this dazzling moon-blood: our
burgundy eye-lengths, this Grape Wine, or this sudden presence: as baffles our
nights, or enhances our days, a man at several loses: such redundancy, looking
for materials, afforded one last dance: those flawless grins, this daughter’s
web, while such ambivalence engulfs us: at whelmed welting(s), at wilted
weather, to grip winds tugging overseas: this slant, my Love—this British,
Irish, Cajun, African man: this Danish, German, Jewish, Ethiopian woman: to see
with delights, to sense that matrix, to cuss, laugh, and devastate those
moments: at rehearsals and returns, at sophic registers, at professors’ aporias—those surreal ladies, such dirty
sophistication, so rich in mental nooses: our casual arguments, our deep
wrangling(s), while eating a bowl of integrity: those throbbing seconds, this
richness in blood-flow, while deeply pushed to maintain: our groups whispering,
those few faucets, while Love is focused afar: and, notwithstanding, those
degrees of forgiveness, it continues to pulsate….
…our
first mantra, such seething richness,
while singed and gliding: our dedication, our investment, our trauma windows: a
torn secret, this Theresa Empire, this Sienna light-bulb: as fear and courage
and love and guts if but to ascend if but to passion something aloof: this
curse with chimes, this inrushing planet, or those retreating for this yearly
day: our gnarly skateboards, our radical joysticks, at moments feeling too
grown to play: so congenial, so winsome, or too restricted to reach: this
glorious fever, this passionate episode, or those years exploring sutras: at
cosmic symbols, reversed in meanings, at something too steep to articulate:
this freedom warrior, this mocking device, or simply disgruntle: to live as
humans, to feign as angelic, while humans adore this game: that dreamlike
creature, so settled in familiarity, at love with something dependable: that
troublesome character, this troublesome ache, at undulation and dreamcatchers:
our locked doors, our resting children, as many wonder about our secret: as
thunderstruck, or plain demolished, at something too creative for dictionaries:
so indelible, so impassioned, so at arts and ours: as robotic, emotional machines, running through savannahs and
cleaving to clouds: this tug to succeed, our reticent contention, our faces
this Empire in Brittan….
I
live at times, enlove with beauty, seated and looking courageous: this
soulprint, this trauma-print, those seaquakes: to imagine more love, this
insentient force, our remarkable intuition: to remorse through passion, or to
dialect a particular curse, attempting to peruse Kant: at reversals, our rolls
in families, while father is cooking: this wholesome, balanced, and androgynous
courtship: while spellbound, probing new heights, at tyrannies concerning our
domains: those lovely maniacs, our cute jealousies, while so enthralled it felt
good to rebirth: in terrific pictures, those brown eyes, this
hazel-born-millennia: that evening tryst, that morning argument, our nightly
evaluation: at mood-shifts, at tender patience, or so enlove it was missed:
this slight anger, those rushing feelings, our emotion carrying unto
sky-saints: our vex and vine, our epitome genius, our sealed aberration: if but
for sung, meditating, Tao—while threshed by new ideals: this affection for
family, this rich haven, this vulnerable dynasty!
