…dipped
so early, white garments and water, those wretched infusions: at blight and
charcoal, at fire and firebrand, or rather, human undergrowth: this silent
gravity, those record breaking surprises, at courses studying existence: those
pale blue eyes, this pale blue feeling, at something near our occipital lobes:
this running magic, this graphic emotion, asking for mommy: if but to flourish,
this interior signpost, those rabid introjections: as men reliving, or souls
finding spirits, our brains consumed by personhood: so young with fever, so old
by deliberation, attempting this naïve station: so grandiose, such an effusion,
writhing where others triumph….
…those mental flames, accustomed to silent observation, where humans
seep into focus: our loquat ghettoes, our loquat daughters, our furious
mothers: as stripped of dignity, to revisit shame, so pulled, so ambivalent:
our breakage, our foliage, our sediments: so alike to damaged, so perfected in
lies, our acts according to stimulation: this need for passion, this need for
control, while comfortable enough to commit treacheries: where time is gentle,
or time is wretched, this flux in dynamics: to adore an image, an unqualified
perspective, while vetting a gnat’s authenticity: at courage and waves, those
opalescent frequencies, so tugged, pitching pebbles downstream…. I palmed a dragonfly, I dined with
sentiments, I spoke with braveries: as mad scientists, lurching into graves, a
pencil, a brush, a notepad: while adoring Louis, this McCool Superman,
tapering, nay, ingesting ingredients: our Number One, this fair, exotic, erotic
creature: while over-sensitized, a bit emotional, where Love snaps and
apologizes: this unfair feeling, this real existence, while sensing something
slipping into darkness: those few memories, those grandeur thoughts, where
humans are fretted to love endlessly: biting nails, scratching earlobes, tugged
for pulled by real life: at needs to perform, while feeling exhausted, plus,
our steaks are uncooked: so sensitive, feeling inadequate, but such a loving
curse: our bolder days, our distracted women, while someone nearby is Prince
Charming: such scarce exaggeration, this part-time enthusiasm, while such and
such sends us home: our unflinching courage, our blacker nights, our white
embarrassments—those solvent solutions, those illegal offices, while a novice
studies behaviors: at sudden growths, refrigerating pomegranates, or so
insistent upon one single point: our ears buzzing, our feelings so stern, our
ownership creating problems…. …it
leads me, I negotiate, it feeds me: this fragile being, this sage at seriousness, while courting fair oceans: at
naïve remorse, wondering about tender moments, while creating this opened sky:
those mahogany suggestions, this interior Wonderland, at Love so deeply: if but
our boundaries, as spoke a lieutenant, while such and such points at
travesties: this broken winner, this radical loser, at courses blotted with
fragments: to lead forever, to follow a few, while recreating this incorrigible
wheel: so threshed for diamonds, so cured for human-hood, or regenerated by
spirit-stencils: at real issues, so indebted to mother, this rude, aggravating,
but instructive machine: to recapture feelings, to regress to adolescence, as
enduring this overflow of emotion: our casual thoughts, if but those writers,
if but those projections: to die in resistance, as resistance grows nigh, while
we grip our intelligence…. I found a
memory, so allocated to damages, this fever bankrupting insanity: at fine
threads, treading cobblestone, while Love appears daily: this feudal curse,
this interior professor, or eyes resembling hints of fury: but yours lives, so
gutted with profanity, so entrenched in ribs: to lay gravel, to blow upon
cement, to redeem those first three months: this unusual tug, this winning
triumph, while a bit resentful: our cards dangling, our oranges with sweetness,
our thrills for excitement: such winning reality, while underestimated, or
needing a train-wreck: this fury in wigs, this queen by delights, at something
seeming by roots: those bolder nights, this re-demanding elixir, or this
truffle warfare.
