I tried to remove
it—this paining instinct, so haunted by God’s Pendulum: as mechanic creatures,
filled with decisions, and torn by emotion: this Morning’s Ladder, debated
personal concerns, while meditated upon this creature in man: those wrangling
eyes, this struggling ego, where women are warm but unpredictable: to give
freely, this nourished nature, while cleaving to a cherished ideology: but life
is caiman, and life is reptilian, while life is good, wholesome, and
contradictory.
…stoic concerns, Love; this city of
mauve lights, those clubs for sinners: so close those dungeons, so afar those floggings,
so dear those hopes: our ancient ancestors, so repulsed, so drawn, begging,
even pleading for completion: our similar sin, our scattered personalities, our
hives, our skin, our dynamite—as pure humans, set apart, so clean, even too
clean: ruined hogs, discarded pigs, our black tendencies and yelling with
ghosts: somewhere those walls, screaming at scriptures, so accused but hell was
language: those leaves, Autumn, those gardens, re-worked, so challenged by
affection: so slow with thoughts, so quick with decisions, such a dire paradox:
those chief sensations, this policed memory, those rabid ass thieves: a million
to palms, a tear to necks, while mother knitted a kite: so devastated, so
ritualized, at ten predispositions: those Laws, this glue, walking through
Jewish territories: a quarter for plums, a dollar for cookies, plus, a diamond
bottle blinking at Jesus: ‘that man gone’, ‘those dreams are wasted’, and ‘something
so real is fully human’: such spoken chaos, such kid bunnies, while father
needed a genius: our ears, Love, our scars, Winter, while a slight breeze entered
Joseph’s chambers: so faithful, those universal mis-appraisals, while it takes
a seed to impregnate: this mystic soul, that long journey, while I believed in
community: this age in silence, our spaceship cries, our spacial insanities: at
lieutenant sorrow, or wretched melancholy, and so proud to perish: indeed, with
friction, so alert to destroy, while years ago life was pleasant….
…at
terrible science, so alert to penalties, so born into violence:
our
catatonic nearness, as a dying insistence, but too young to see:
in
dire predicament, those fallen physicians, our physiologies afire:
so
Israel, so Jewish, so Palestinian—those Assyrian eyes, those
Siberian
ankles, so lost at moments, so found nodding at indifference:
such
a cultural famine, such deep depletion, while we argue against
literature:
so netted, while fishing lights, nibbling a turtle’s intestines:
our
temples bleeding, our mothers wailing, such poignant fears:
our
women baffled, so susceptible, or plain angry: our widows
dying,
our orphans forsook to silence, and Autumn just graduated:
so
cursed at intervals, so enlove for escape, and, henceforth, a mad fire….
…so sad to feel us, this echo in silence, so attuned to
behavior: our assessment spirits, our oxymoronic passion, so alert, so shunned,
or ingratiated fearfully: those inner mornings, this intricate ghost, while
something tugs towards traffic: our newest feelings, our latest emotion, our
iced souls: those glaciers, while yearning near fire, or longing for something
more developed: such appetites, peering into a raging culture, or so bothered
by intimate analyses: Messiah complexes, longing for privilege, made privy to
re-assessment: so shocked to see it, to hear it screaming, where realization
strikes: this impassive universe, this cursed enterprise, this pool of pure
crocodiles: as a watching leopard, or a panting cheetah, we distinguish notable
reality….
