…a
muggy lake, a sandpapered heel, reaching for sediments: a flickering light,
those dim rooms, those myriad memories: our minds operating, our similar moods,
rewiring cords: those dancing umbrellas, sitting in stillness, arranged neatly:
our flowing vision, this small spider, our wet napkins: if but received, I
wonder dearly, if malaise would reappear: but by science, such familiar
extents, such breezy shifts: pushy heaviness; relit emotions; vigil but
peaceful candles: a furnace with time, an atmospheric pang, so charmed to fancy
a miracle: putting much in hope, accustomed to believing, where a person
carries our feelings:—knitting softly, ensuring endurance, overly responsible
for tomorrow: an interior cage, plus, outward resentment, while nearly
buckling: those tight belts, such scriptural existence, or radical resistance:
those head-storms, at brain-thunder, while sky-havoc felt appealing: our bicycles,
those metaphorical cranks, so alike to persistence: those taller decencies,
those smaller inconsistencies, or bouncing with physics: buoyant conversation,
velocity thoughts, feeling slight nuance: at windmills debating, or forgetting
our affliction, so realized in disappearances: life as rainbows, as feelings to
horizons, we tread our city deserts: sweeping relentlessly, remodeling
frantically, this need for feng shui….
…cloudy,
but stirring, albeit, repented admiration: spirit-binoculars, endless splinters,
or a purple orange sky: so far from destiny, this shaggy road, those talkative
potholes: those tunic dreams, but untamed agonies, but tragic instructors: such
amplified emotion, as time becomes mechanic, realizing as such this pushy
intruder: recalibrated; re-filtered; so close to a symbolic note: as devious
insistence, working against witnesses, our lips sealed by promises: as years to
surrender, or pulpits to a trenchant need, or bare feelings to an opened sky: our
retrieved senses, our relieved testimonies, so received, or too delicate, our
emotion unwiring: lucre becomes paradise, victuals become worship, while
on-seers have become intolerable….
We’re
invisible souls, watching through widows, our mirrors are miry: our films
repeat, our intake is similar, our spirits carry frequencies: we desire
existence, where risks are mandatory, plus, skies are incandescing: our
miracles are hard-won, our realization is an aftermath, so clear through
darkness: such shivering aches, redeemed in persons, at love through guitars:
those murky ponds, those yellow beige geese, while depending upon magical
spheres: but crowded at moments, seen in parts, where vibration erupts: those
outstanding measures, or intricate pianos, wheezing over gestures: at fire with
existence, at life with pluralities, so postmodern feeling antiquities: our
souls battling freely, too much is just enough, as needing pure satisfaction.
I
chance a feeling, redeemed in agonies, speaking Yahweh Mornings: I puff a
clove, deny this sickness, while praying a distant seed: so at thoughts, those
casual interiors, at wonders those few persons: as seeking peace, or
remembering rain, so accustomed to its downpour: maybe rearrange feelings, or
re-furniture an instinct, while realizing someone has lit a furnace: those
casual, deep rooted, or free-flying cables: our phones upon strings, our pain
in another’s eyes, so calm about feeling those edges: if but to leap, while
dependent upon particles, our bodies floating upon shards: at mid-range papers,
re-inking our minds, or re-gassing our determination: so pleased at times,
realized in a good moment, where souls are training self for bringing Good
Tidings: (so pleased to commune, so pleased to have met, and so pleased to be
responsible): this inward dwelling, those outer seas, so filtered by behavior:
reborn in eyes, such a dear friend, at moments, it hurts: this curious
participant, our popcorn with juice, our simplicity outreaching its depth: such
outdated baggage, wondering about, Who
cares; indeed, an infant man.
