Champions

We ignore thickets, up until havoc, or where railroads converge: at several doors, such prithee wishes, our souls re-captured: such jaded turquoise, at mahogany eyes, while sightless and disappearing: but abracadabra, and hocus pocus, such wild gentility: as twofold creatures, separating lives, a delicate anniversary: at noon laughing, wailing about nature, our mirror passion: to die forever, this slow pace, while promised some philosophic island: this rain trickling, upon a moon of sunshine, re-knitting a delicate theorem.     …since immortal chimes, we’ve danced and celebrated, where others are watching: protecting our homes or seeking revenge, while someone is whispering: those delicate legs, that aesthetic chin, or barrels of wisdom tucked in our cuffs: this gorgeous mystery, this female dynasty, or men made perfect by happiness: at several chimneys, remodeling soot, or puffing while blowing smaze: our porcelain pianos, our poetic violins, if but to realize our dreams: at center front, those frontal poses, tinkering with our behaviors: so certain with time, so uncertain with levity, or knee to throat invested in church: this world of reminders, this casual forgiveness, while souls weigh options: but life is deciduous, our leaves clumpy and beautiful, our reasoning pointing to attributes….     We thole through existence, we re-time our tables, we become consummate actors: but love is genuine, as a heavy emotion, while survival becomes paramount: so uneasy, at cozen fountains, or so honest it’s impossible to walk away: either/or, those cleats kicking, our diamonds glistening, our souls apocalyptic: such precious feeling, searching for nectar, or informed about deserts: (so many windows, but shattered his guts, while replaced something died: as humans conquer, subjugating behaviors, or swarming in circles: those exceptions, or such acceptance, where one chances upon a forest): moreover, such vivid roses, as time sits in abeyance, where newness seems intoxicating: this river of dusky tulips, this ocean of failed contempt, while miracles appear in portraits.     We grow feelings, losing innocence, becoming adult participants: but years were giddy, and years were playful, and to see it again harps a silent sentiment: those blueberry smiles, those raspberry laughs, at cake and lemon juice: if but so gentle, our souls amazed, where others inquire of that bond: such reaching intimacy, such imperfect souls, where reality plays its guitar: at fuller moons, at sacred Shrines, or a bit confused concerning sentimentality: this lake of incidents, this re-coiled knot, while something tragic sprinkles something entrenching: those silent hydrants, this fount in cartoons, those realities seeming inconsequential: if but by fixing, if but by rekindling, if but our perceptions: ever a thin course, while taken by humanness, where a seed might play her part: as rarely a lonely seating, but ever a lonely feeling, while souls long for something hermetic: our gutty wars, our helium guts, our gutty cares.     …such indelible mindstuff, our mandala chaos, our years to embarrassments: where others capitalize, while speaking ill-tempered, while easing into a position: this daily fight, to battle for our dreams, where fleetingness seems apparent: this internal raffle, our needs for happiness, as requiring full time attention: this rosy scream, where daughters desire carriages, while mothers fail to inform beauty: those delicate eyes, this delicate vision, while father states such remarkable work: while floundering romance, or philanthropic escapades, a soul must maintain its momentum: indeed, needing Casanova, this disappearing machine, while steady for something fawning daily: or needing Quixote, if but a desired dream, while designating a therapist: such wise men, at this writing kingdom, while at war seeming together: thereinto, those poetic women, desiring mutuality, where both specialize in seduction: a rose there, a poem here, a trip to Niagara Falls: but a precious seed, or precious needs, embarking second to minute: this time-capsule, our days for hobbies, our family outings: those nightly challenges, so easy upon liquor, so underrated: as men flying, as women soaring, while eagles are jealous: to sing forever, this song of birds, or those sidereal gazes: to love by action, while never mere presence, at intimate dialogue….