…at long last a casualty, a
breathing machine, a treacherous, faithful, remanded human being: so many bars, so many struggles, so intense, so lively, so
activated in core-brains: this hemisphere laughing, this psych cringing, while
carrying a modicum of concern: that old mystic, that mystic oven, this
horrible, dejected, and melancholic word: this African Holocaust, this Jewish
Desert, while resilience brought to life something indestructible: our bowels,
Love; our chaperons, Adored One; or differences in thought patterns: this edge
in detriments, this village of psychologies, where Jung would suggest Humanity
First: (at smiles but meditated, at guts but ruined, while flowers appear
controversial): this blue black moon, those poetic reasons, while so enlove its
desperate a heart-feather: our milk with Hershey’s, our flavor with deaths, or
meaning so dependent: at oils with candles, at Frankincense or Frankenstein,
lost and running while returning to Ghettoes: this fragrant daisy, those core
implications, so sonic, so cartoon, so Barry White—at full sunrises, trekking
through Newport, so veiled, so perfect, so under this lamp-table: our havens,
Love, our cravings, Adored One, as primate mathematicians: sakata feelings,
wasps’ determination, or a penguin’s loyalty: as Emperors, founded in queens,
as a woman masters such longevity: her thoughts to survival, her wigs as
suggestive, while needing this sight beyond all others: those voice-overs, this
wrestling throttle, our caves displayed and depicted in mid-traffic: to die
this allotment, to thresh this ceiling, accused according to actions: those
blatant pegs, those tectonic opinions, at phobias, attempting to adore such
improbable algebraic(s)—a mere soul, or better a gecko, at meerkats laughing or
enjoying such frolicking: those serious women, so at a desperate need, where
Love was oblivious: such terrible outcomes, such wretched heart-flutes, while
Love adores his dejected brains….
...so gentle with touch, those iguana
hands, those sensual overtures: as arriving at sex, as opposed to gunning for
sex, so tender a thought, so at whisper an inclination: something so regular,
as now so irregular, where a person feels that something has been missing: tortoise
sensation, or tortoise stamina, while hours churn into arguments: our nostrils
dripping mucus, our brains feeling rabid, our mouths salivating: but Love is
emotion, and Love is logic, and Love carries a confliction: this thing, Love,
as seen, Love, so docile, so submissive, so under tutelage, Love: indeed, a
rival to bowels, a gun to sky-fire, at terrors feeling exacerbated: our miracle
cover letters, our remarkable resumes, while Love is evaluating inventory: such
sickness with genius, such a delicate person, so seen, so controlled, so at
humility: our thumping hearts, our at-risk sexualities, or chimpanzee eye
flexibility: at silver back aggression, or tamed by Love, where Love desires a
gorilla: such controversies, rattling through graffiti, and sipping for living
addicted to a myth: this flare passion, our earlobes burning, or one knowing
every intricacy: to dig his heart, to flutter his soul, to sprinkle his castle:
at days, Love, so sick and laughing, so fearful and giggling: so amplified, or
deeply at churns, to confess love met with regrets: if but to perish, after so
entangled, a nutshell, a nut-hell, at terrors, so indebted to this woman…. …so fly, so amazing, so
imperceptible—lurching into minds, devastated and beautiful, with but a few
closets: this luggage package, this human failing, our turquoise souls: as men
needing, and women cringing, but addicted to long, pale, or sunshine thighs: at
granny’s memory, but not such a funeral, where mother would exclaim a
detriment: those camerawomen, this mystic Digest,
at terror, reborn, while frightened to sleep: this haunting image, that
last rib, at courses seduced to get one way: so enslaved, so volcanic, at
wonders concerning monogamy: this sworn project, our loins breathing, if but to
presume something sacred: this bold eagle, those cats meowing, or dogs floored
feeling reversals: a gibbon story, a magic tree, or mystic, shimmering
diamonds: to adore without, while up
so close, to invest in a thousand years: to catch our mid-gates, this immortal
resurrection, while musing upon leaf cutters: this heart so familiar, this
unfamiliar summer, or winter losing its focus: to imagine trepidation, to sense
Fahrenheit, while engaged in slime-mold: at furious problems, needing Jesus, if
but this tale by Works: at heads flipping,
or tails shuttering, while Love seems adoring: this small man, this dead
island, as surfing to Civilization: those city buildings, this interior
edifice, at life with architecture: hereinto, this daily language, pushing
insanity, while Love speaks with gentility: so invested, so distant, while
chemistry brains are floating and flitting and morphing into concerns: this pet
jerboa, this panting deer, at Psalms re-paragraphing: to forgive self, as to
forgive others, while hurting so much its remora inversion….
