…softer,
melancholic leaves, searching for magicians, removed but gentle: so charmed by
flame, or deserted deserts, sliding upon a fantasy: remodeling fences or
looking into skyglass, nibbling butterscotch: at deep presence, flying into
membrance, thinking so many miles: palming centipedes, analyzing snails, or
feeling quite familiar: at earth thoughts, and knowing better, while searching
outside of inventory: this deep location, this garden of loquats, where sages
prune misery: upon a petal, such salty air, such moist humidity: ingrown
spirits, this poet’s adventure, so alienated by mirrors: reaching points,
musing upon a dream, or composing to something estranged: gripped by life,
tussling weeds, tumbling into domains: those intimate ghosts, this inrush of
sentimentality, while over-there is always appealing: negotiating those
screams, listening to gut-hearts, at a feeling so deceptive: so watched by
consciousness, absorbed by an ocean breeze, searching a flock of pelicans:
midnight blues, daylight ambition, at fiery mystic intrigue: (separate but
equal, sequential but stagnant, at mauve orchids: those violet problems, this
sullen duration, at something unreal: those physical elements, to sound so
elementary, where deep inquisition becomes a reason to cherish: so abandoned,
fighting this war, while prizing selective souls: this palm of sediments, this
Malibu pavement, or this ghetto violinist: graduating feelings, polished by
reaper-pleats, at skies and lands, enriched by something adverse: peering at
psychs, curious to ask, about those measured capacities: to delve so deeply,
while balanced to return, where great souls become transference): our softer
whispers, or these similar visits, where one utters, I mistook you: doors slamming, outcasts resurrecting,
semi-rejection spinning out of control: those aches, or forbidden needs, while
one is so part-time…. …such treeless
ashes, by glamorized worship, or cataphatic
confusion: those interior minutes, this group of snow monkeys, something
gentle enough to distract us: to
become knowledgeable, by this imperfect reality, this trial for humans: our
reptilian habits, our bellies to dust-mites, or this web of termites: needing
Joan, relying upon diligence, or pushed into medieval ecstasies: too close for
comfort, to abandoned but reeling, so alert but sleepy: (at one glance, or
stolen from time, these pliers, that wrench, this incredible bridge: re-listening,
or replaying, while father purchased a new number: electrical binoculars, an
internal library, at this call-center located in concentration: so independent,
this hellish grenade, but people are at different gates: our pocket-brains,
this thin island, where most people are deeply concerned): rehashing something
gray, or probed by something emphatic, so critical, so scolded, while seriously
searching souls: too deep to die, too realistic to denounce it, while stuck at
an impasse: such traveling energy, those trained in awareness, so low these
remarks, so distant this element: our lives cemented, our minds as abstract,
our corners painted with nonchalance….
Nighttime
winds, godship souls, or more silent fevers: forever those thoughts, rebelling
against mediocrity, re-paving this circular road: at particular triangles,
reaching for illumination, reflected in mental imagery: realized in coping,
while many have things organized, for this must exist as an opposite: so
pleased to think it, so distressed to fathom it, where we indict parents: this
risqué model, those raging defenses, our guilt, our minds, while we defer: such
deep programming, those copying techniques, so crowded by familiar feelings:
while one doesn’t care, concerning deep resentment, as long as we never mention
it: this kite floating, this string wobbling, our creativity soaring: this
tennis racket, this tennis ball, while realizing particular nuances: so graced
by silence, so raspy due to silence, so curious about this freedom thing:
growing rapidly, so thrilled to become fire, so abandoned to adult decisions.
