…if you say, “Live,”
I’ll cherish, if but something deceptively deceased: our gray tiers, our angry
lies, at something needing worship: this fair skin, this dark horizon, as
spliced in shards: so confused, so addled, peering into adders: such dangerous
souls, perfumed and deodorized, looking, swimming, at something inferior: at
rhythmic Blues, or jazzy chants, so ritualized, so blessed, by curses and
gavels: our last skype, our first encounter, seated along Pacific Coast Deception:
your baby’s stroller, your lost feelings, at needs indicative of existence:
this merry ride, this dying sensation, plus, arising inclinations: so supple, so soft, so salient: so cameo,
such croon with deaths, to languish a kiss: our moonrise, our sunfall, at
meadows listening to crickets: so warm, so insatiable, where a man meets a
partial location: so overtaken, such undercurrent, at waves and song and
detriment: those brown lenses, this short reply, our bodies beginning to ache:
to need something, this interior furniture, to relax and engulf an entire
living room: heretofore, and, thither, such sensation, while, hither, such
writhing, excruciating, even addictive melancholy: those trepid curses, this
inner breakage, while carrying something for thirty five years: this
sky-disaster, this cryptic maze, our tragedies upon repeat: this similar space,
our mental margins, but ten minute rapture: to give us lies, this well we
desire, while ill-equipped to sustain a forest: as mystic rhapsody, or so
honest it splinters, at terrible, orgasmic, even climatic rage: such foolish
humans, hiding something graphic, while afraid we seldom meet standards: so
cursed, so alive, pretending life is similar to dying: if but to reason, or but to communicate, we might
happen upon melodies—those boundless limits, our oxymoron, where chaos delivers
shackles: such consuming behavior, so captured by physiognomy, while
ill-purchased, and ill-chanced, where it never felt so understanding: those
tender skies, those tender spines, while reasoning about something too slight
to mention: those radiant signs, those intricate symbols, so symbiotic, so
realized, or so pushed as seasons are yet over: those mental messages, those
margin poems, this mis-communicated order—as so infiltrated, gunning through
barracks, while memories cascade into essence: our last result, our rise, risk
and signature: so refused, so incandescent, so funeralized: those hands
speaking, those nail-beds polished, while granny nurses a similar
retrospection: such comparison, such blue eyes, such pain enveloped in longings:
this ache for travesty, this need for travesty, this fiasco, this jinn, or
nobody quite fathoms—this want for perfection, or better, those souls for us, while so psychiatric, or such a
deadline, where today is tomorrow….
…a
man carries existence, plus, a deficit, plus, removal from what’s perceived as
goodness: our remarkable women, so sensitive, so strong, so sensational: this
advantageous disadvantage, those skeptical guarantees, to imagine a woman’s
mind: this clock spinning, this pendulum maneuvering, this light so addictive:
so increased, so prevailing, or so annoyed: such bitter shame, as relived
internally, so gifted, so large, huddled in a corner dying: or so incredible,
opening cave-eyes, so better, so enchanted, so agitated: our agonies, sleeping
in shadows, pulled for gathered looking at pieces—this self as evolved, this
self as reliant, but times grow bitter: such rehashed music, so breezy a cool
conversation, while one leans forward: such a mistake, or such an alarm, so
carried away with embarrassments....
…so many veils, but
so adored, to look at a woman’s body: such a shallow man, but what comes first,
as souls confess similarities: this green sea-grass, this dolphin leaping, our
eyes so indebted: such Form, such Existence, or somewhere reclaiming
Non-Existence: at perfect curses, revisiting generations, as father, as son, as
was grandpa: to possess high perspectives, where a woman proves incapable,
while the ante becomes progeny: but hell that river, as more this pain,
suggestive of one needing clarity: those softer truths, while despising
lightning, where thunder seems appropriate: such ruthless vengeance, such
radicalized pressure, while reality reminds of remissions: at tragic windows,
peering into cities, at ego, remorse, and challenge: so dusty and dizzy, such
few with fullness, while society has become quite empty: helpless but frantic,
lively and sick, melodic and acapella….
