…such
liquid fire, such resonant flame, so conditioned, so silent, such a wreck:
those feral flowers, assisted by heart-tremors, so conscious concerning our
bias: patent loses, rehearsed history, so relived, so gentle when obeyed: those
moving skies, those immovable skies, so dried out, so contagious: to rethink
passion, so long a lost day, so seated with abuses: our miracle fevers, our
cuticle airwaves, such by nutshells or bolts: this fleeing wilderness, those
favorite thoughts, so featured embodied in features: those irony bars, this
irony character, while influenced to remain tender: our vacant souls, so
assaulted by life, so green, so lost, so involved: as maniac creatures, enlove
with thoughts, while imagined as ruby blue marmosets: this soul agreeing, while
fire is stirring, to imagine such passion increasing with seconds: immoveable
fire, immoveable adolescence, so found in déjàvu—this trefoil of loyalty, this
frantic assessment, where action seemed irrelevant: for hearts glow, such
glittered to deaths, where it hurts to adore with clarity: such frequent
mind-aches, such deadly music, re-found, re-skied, so close to hell’s castles:
our removed senses, this person so geared, while actuality needs this literary
passion: at tears and mistakes, at love and chaos, while thrown so involved
with adoring Us: those fragments,
this friction, so frightened of getting ruined—those cavalier eyes, those
shattered voices, at vocals so removed from bodies: our ancient mishap, those
ships closer to shorelines, where days agree with fantasies: our crucial arc,
this florid decoration, so close to reliving something imaginary: at prints and
faces, at science and religion, so turned, so deceased, defying laws
engrained….
I
saw fever—those early ashes, knitted for framed: I thought to shivers,
something by gentility, so musing her caves: at deep extraction, or deeper
removed, so sullen a kiss needing its picture: at tyranny’s island, those
astronaut eyes, while scratching until blood trickles: this offset soul,
solicited by interior demons, at such a soft sell: our minds so different, our
bodies so enslaved, as needing particular excuses: if but to touch, if but to
perish, while reborn, reliving, re-rioted: those tales about fire, this flame
by tales, or this tiny experience those trenchant remarks: at deep slants, or
treacherous courage, while a man reverses his first repent: this locket
bleeding, this feeling seduction, while removed from Love and angry to die: as
lost but forgiven, or told those cries, while Love adores living in pluralities:
this cousin-voice, this granduncle malaise, while arms to life agreeing at
mademoiselle—those turpentine drums, this Clorox assassination, so bleached, so
rhythmic, so candescent: our childhood chaperone, our grandparent advice, those
terrified but new emotions: this film our guts, this purple, pleasant,
imaginative mistake: at torn poetry, relived in cadence, such flame, this tiny
fire: at mental rebukes, at treacherous charges, while livid but alone, revived
but insisted, restructured in forecasted, illusory screams!
