…she
rewrites diaries, this deep, agonizing, hilarious passion: so detrimental, so
suicidal, so rich in melancholy: those profound notions, those glossary eyes,
so neat, so punctual, so deceased: that recluse poetess, those recluse ghosts,
while raging over sky-terrors: at love but recluse, at compassion but ashamed,
at religion but quite temperamental: this class for women, those feminists
anxieties, while mother enjoys sexual attention…. …we met as ventriloquists, we threw
vocality, so indebted to one honest sentence: this intravenous queen, this
long, but late, evaluation: those tattooed fingers, those gorgeous men, or this
dairy, genetic body-war: as needing animosity, or yearning for bruises, while
Love adores beating her senseless: such radiant affection, and always angry,
where calm gentility, and wayward emotion, appears as aloof: those Asian eyes,
those African hips, or that German brain: so sick with Love, a line story, such
glory to bones: flippant, plus, in terrors, so recluse, so indebted, attacking
Los Angeles: our growling adverbs, our intelligent adjectives, at verbs pushing
a slew of Mf’s: such curly mane, such lost, desert-like, insane and
claustrophobic eyes: at scars dancing, where Love is yelling, where mother is
screaming: our dead families, our deep sisters, where siblings play a crucial
piano….
I
saw Love laughing, flipping ecstasy, unborn, a storm glazed, an ingredient
ravished: this poet-pond, those trenchant gazes, those watery cries: as men
indebted, so plus a nation, at sleep leaping into neighbors: those tresses,
that smell, those odors: such silky thighs, such inverted grace, while so
silent, sick, and appealing: to fly into battle, to converse with helium, where
thoughts are articulated through atheism: at God that second, such cherry
inflamed eyes, speaking scientific laws: so thin, so chiseled, eating a bite of
tuna: those late pendants, this value key, while at adoration so seductively: to
adore Love, that derriere, those bandit anklets, those intense, excruciating,
resonant volumes: to wring Jesus, to petal Yahweh, to hail a storm: this
fragile ego, those leopard tables, to lilt, re-stumble, and articulate a grand
diary: such to passion, to gilt a mentality, so unlocked, while gripping,
pulling, and yanking nectar: this fool for Love, as never to relocate, while
Love is sudden but tugged.
…such
scented quilts, to transform mania, seated un-judgingly: such a perfect
feeling, dying with Love, while Love ached our goodbye: such highness, so lost,
screwing sobriety: that shroud unveiled, those silk pajamas, at sonic waves: I
barely thought, I looked at passion, sleeping while awake: at cuts and deaths,
at something serious, while Love was so worried: to outstrip his brain, moving
fastly, to overtake a sullen heart: for Love was sober, and Love was an island,
where sis was a bit nervous: our guts, Love, our years, Love, while this fool
is still losing….
