…resonant ecstasy or
Hildegard fire, achy palms, bleeding fever, so captured, so deceased (mania)…!
I’ve died at hills,
incarnate flame, at something impermanent: such bodhi eyes, such magnificence, ingrained, unknit, so balanced and
unsteady: those leaves whispering, this glorious Wall, so at war, so at romance, so positive, so negative: those
innate screams, this early morning darkness, at turbid waters—to live in
capsules, to draw so nearness, while unable to elaborate: at mental Castles, at pride in Sienna, so aloof,
this cell life, so Catherine: our mystic instincts, where existence is dying,
while Bishop confessed to temptation: our green vines, our burgundy plums, so
confused, so enlightened, so publically alone—if but a fair charge, at Death
Row, one might elude to participation: our magic whittles, our psalmic anxiety,
so lost for structured alive in Hebrews: Arabic tongues, Egyptian witnesses, or campfires in Galilee: at
Thecla giggling, at caves sentenced, at gavels and planks and pure insanity,
whispering: so soft this attraction, so mystic this insistence, while theology
begs for questions: those redherrings, those ad hoc instructions, so deep, so found, if but losing all senses:
those stars, this interracial convoy, this ship, this interracial luggage: to
imagine mother, pointing with animosity, or father congratulating such
graduation: at mystic dice, so enlove with walls,
where one is prone towards survival: this illustration, this feudal pain, while
vying for something committed to ocean sickness: hitherto, such slight
omission, this tyranny in Jesus—our red passion, our intrepid insistence, so
beige, so cyan, so black, so white: this wretched dichotomy, this frightened
son, at silence, at stillness, enflamed with fury: our confidants, our needs,
to find a glimpse in an unlikely mistake: such hermetic resurrection, such
penchant convergence, so bathed in warm waters: to dip through ecstasy, to
flush a human, as it came it disappeared: to remain in awe, such awesome majesty, while
seeing spirit those phantom eyes:
such mauve celebration, such orchid worship, or becoming silently tribal: this
ancient secret, the further we travel, we begin to unlock something primitive:
this mind pushed passed limits, this manic memory, as alive, sipping, so deep
in mystic rites: at transformation, at transubstantiation, at trance and alarms
while cleaving to invisibility: this Mother’s haven, this Father’s war-camp, at
lilacs and mythical orchards.
…such rusty antiques,
such cerise and seeds, such garnet problems: aloof to profanity, indebted to
granny, at mistakes believing is appears as it is: those kites with thoughts, this musing museum, at Love sick
about worries: so concerned, such hives, at something said to liberate: our
custom approach, our interior costumes, our wigs, our women, our fathers: this
wishing dahlia, our midnight begonias, or something so saffron, so pale, so emphatic
concerning Christ: this mental Eucharist, this long succession, our wafers with
rituals: our welkin displeasure, our praise come hells, our guitars spelling
excitements: our David in Zion, our stronghold in Our Ghost, while something
crooked diminishes a series of beliefs: this Deist at hands off, this theist at
dreams come, or so far gone an agnostic has just prayed: so mystic with pain,
so bane with experience, as treating others with proper regard: so astute, such
a fiddling flute, such coy, lute, and joy: thereat, this travesty looming, this
moon walking, this anguish with gates….
…such devastation,
this decimated insanity, this denigrated faith: this amusement for some, this
caliber frustration for others, or something uninvestigated for many: this
anti-science, this anti-ethic, while Nietzsche proclaimed the only Christian
died upon his Cross: our devout
cries, our earnest resistance, to find hands participating is sin: such musical
times, such chants with wines, at grapes, pomegranates, and peaches: an eyeful
of existence, a soul filled with persistence, so mosaic, so captured, so
indebted: this gusset of complication, this interior lamp, at something too
evolved to seem normal: this comfortable feeling, where life is cringing, as
one labeled a bit abnormal: our deep exposure, our roots in France, our dreams
in Louisiana, so outspoken towards Africa: this minor, mythic, and mystic
sketch: those serious visitations, while realizing something new has occurred:
mystic saxophones, or mystic symphonies, at alone-time speaking while lit
aglow: our sophic delights, our swami brains, while walking sudden upon a
missile: at jazzy performance, at Blues and rhythm, or at a sacred scarf: this
spiritual spar, this indigenous scar, so Maori, so tribal, so evolved
lightening into thunder….
