…we picture plateau
fire, we die resurrected, we cleanse while so filthy—this milky life, this
sentenced gravity, while to give fills us with agony: hereunto, those mystic
rebels, this cadence swan, or lakes at deep hells: this fist of problems, this
uncured ham, or days to levity—those musical devises, this mental telephone,
this soul-threat answering machine: so aloft this planet, so conscious of
saints, while needing something many years running: our pictured vices, this
queasy wine-shed, this magical wood-panel: smelly odors, our longer nights,
showered in dirty thoughts: alive but uncultured, revved for demolished, angry
for intensified: losing so richly, winning in order to know loses, and filled
with terrors: our blind membranes, our insane satisfaction, while fretted for
ruined and gunning into atmosphere: this bad ass vixen, this terrible intimacy,
as needing something souls produce: our shadow life, our tetras attempts, at
Love aching for dying and leasing this ghost: for pain is in session, where
marathons are exposed, our evenings laughing over melancholy: herewith, this
sick addiction, at body-work, so intense as required one escape—this achy
footlight, this tender claw, at negotiations with grim-reapers: if but to
chance, or but to die, where Love retaliated fretting my terrors: this bold
index, this shelf of passion, or skirts raised too ecstatically—this fifth of
horrors, this pint of agony, thrown for threshed at tears about an explosion:
this life of loses, this ease into knowledge, where one gains insights: our
weeks yielding, our wheels at panic, our hearts knitting long and liquid
letters—those telegrams chuckling, this thump an illusion, or Love so close at
distance from his library—those
Disney Mice, this deep need, as for something so sophisticate such filth is
appreciated—as men playing monopoly, where women are catering, while reality
devastates an unsuspecting sky-brain: thereinto, this lioness pausing, this
language as petty, while souls are ruffled by inconsistencies: that dear
neighbor, that deep contempt, while wrecked for silenced kneading particular
sorrows: this interior-opened-cage, those bars reknit, this frantic alien
forced to enter society: after years of alienation, after nights secluded,
where humans seem quite difficult: that hermit existence, this want for
filthiness, if but so respected Jesus is challenged.
…we unfurl and
re-flame, our skeletons queasy, our livers overworked, and our muscles
screaming: a dirty secret—as so intoxicating, reveled and toxic: our
heart-brains, our immutable lungs, at tears inside our bone marrow: such
inferno stomachs, at something so dear, while, nonetheless, we ache and love
and churn as animals: our pulsating veins, our jigsaw lives, our terrible
silence: those interior eyes, this head-storm gut, our noses sensing new scents:
if but intellectual, or dearly a calm soul, while Love needs an angry man:
tongue to chin, throat to vocals, as sung while so desperate that first
encounter: our first kiss, our navel conversation, our rattling teeth: at hands
so gently, to notice arm-hairs, while so intense an excuse to take one knee:
our ticklish feet, a feather to an arch, or massages abrupt to end: for Love
was there, and Love needs infinity, where most need immediate gratification: so
many years, such intense passion, as dying and favored and communicating with
demons…..
…those amber mirrors,
those moonstone eyes, solicited by mystic topaz thighs: so azure and azotic, at
sapphire dreams, such sunstone complexion, wondering about future progeny:
those jasper trinkets, our granite agonies, at pearls and mica and glitter—if
but admission, this womb of lakes, this aqua-green-ingredient: our golden
elixir, our dandelion wish, and those aster, bronze and alleluia prayers: thereinto, such julep leaps, into terrible
dungeons, to need infinity while a soul is demented: those feeling selves, this
pouring into majesty, at God’s left hand: in dire restraints, screaming
profanity, at one glance, at one shovel, while believing Love adores something
radical: this interior Jeremiah, this envisioned beauty, while shooting
blackjack with Adonai: hitherto, a soul, and, thitherto, a man, where Love
unlocks this hidden University: such charisma, those Zion eyes, at halleluiah and demanding: our hearts
thrust, this mazeway attraction, where Love adores a good argument: our short
sessions, our longer complaints, or seconds only Divinity fathoms: such Flowing Light, such interior Exercises, where one mistakes a mistake
as a reason to feel special: ha, and laughing, this vest of thumps, this core
excitement: while dearly devastated, or radicalized and gunning, so intense a
dramatic intonation: those throat tears, those gums with terror, while reversed
for churned and losing religion….
