…we
offer visits, this miraculous knitting, fueled by interaction: such reserved
truisms, such unspoken cadence, at sights a second those human mirrors: such dinosaur instincts, such
leopard spots, awakening Jesus to heal leprosies: our deeper discourse, our deeper
beliefs, while removed enough promised into tomorrow: this gut-war, those pagan
portraits, our pagan instincts: at
Laws meditating, at New Testaments debating, or so pure those days to sleep-deprivation: candles tickling,
treasures provocative, teased by something gentle: those wretched beginnings,
this wretched soul, at captures exploding into vehemence: our minds, Love, as never to
abandon, Love, while our worse nightmares: if but this for that, or that for this,
such sweet gumbo: at manic tales, our horrid diaries, our terrific realities:
this lose so early, as graphed into blueprints, where mother was sick with
impatience…. …so many monsters, groomed for prisons,
where reality is quite official: lawyers debating, judges listening, so tragic
years to contemplation:
this florid miracle, this lost, received child, while cultural tyranny remains
an issue…. I live missing pieces, so crucial
each detail, while bigger pictures elude science: this casual swan, so filled with
honesties, while reluctant to sail: this Buddhist pamphlet, as scraping
minutia, where true enlightenment becomes studious: those voice-frames, those
indifferent behaviors, while some exist as oxymoron(s): but tender to
motion, as motion becomes tender, while one has exercised something quite
natural: this Ferrari
heart, this Porsche soul, while hibernating with cubs: so crucial with beliefs,
so systematic with premises, so grand with deliberation. …at once a navigator, or twice at voyage,
while impartial to mother: indeed, a deep confession, this land of confetti,
where years churn into survival: those few religions, this religious
atmosphere, while its popular to claim religion: our yogis diving, our mystics
aloft, our spiritualists conjuring spirits—as mere souls, broken for floored,
our carpets crimson prayers: while swans ponder, while mothers resist, while
fathers sip something breezy: this losing enterprise, this hard-won
deliberation, where certain realities are not in my favor…. I thought to it, this web of activities,
reasoning concerning total deafness: as one claims madness, another agrees,
plus, passion webbed in criminality: this Lucifer child, this demon with stars,
as father is privy to one side of mosaic coins: this man racing, or destroying
cars, while innocence is pledged upon images: those secret closets, that filthy
blanket, while it’s difficult to imagine pure deceptiveness: those slates grin,
this canvas is purple, our charms seem apparent: but life is gentle this wind,
those days to basking in patience, or floored to something insensitive: this
silent, passive soul, those years to pure indecision, as one invests in
something at love with others: that grand debut, our seed laughing, as coming
to something so delicate: those internal feelings, as needing such a fix, or
flippant concerning this new commission: to need hands, to desire powder, while
lacking an adequate voice. …but more
to gentility, this remarkable lover, this astrological musician, at ease with
physical alarms: those tender, whispering, bold, electric, even crazed glares:
possessed but shivering, or too much to capture, or so sick it appears normal:
at treatises with time, where humans lose interests, where familiarity breeds
un-appreciation: this need to re-juice, this permeable affectation, while
honeysweet insanity is required: at structured focus, loving where it aches,
re-capturing something so early in its absence: such compelling skin, this
infinite bruise, while silly enough to praise beginnings: so pulled asunder, so
yanked to bed, while bleeding in sentiments: our casual affair, those casual
liars, our casual hearts as perfect for shortness, but dead for duration, while
alarmed our souls fail satiation: such deadly love, while such bestial love, so
quick to summons addiction: but Love is alive, and Love is livid, thrown to
wolves returning with bones: this ape affair, this gorilla monopoly, while
animals purr with aggravation: such dominance, such brutal control, while
humans utilize passion with language: that remote island, those charming
facilities, or bones struck to intestines!
