…too
sober to see, too debilitated to whisper, rewound to cradle existence: a
furious face, a flavored accent, so freckled, so brilliant: I reach lips, I
caress chins, I tug at hairs: so flung into it, mother seems different, father
has become a ghost: so hard to die, with principalities arising, while indebted
to an infant soul: damn near comatose, leering crazily, asking a son’s
identity: so young at it, so depraved with it, at biscuits and bacon and
belligerence: so anti-presence, while seeking presence, a bit confused:
laughing with elders, smelling a steep stench, but times were good for
standards: such classical behavior, such interesting characters, at paradox,
pain and pleasures: running through sugarcane, tarred but balanced, at grown up
interrogation: reviewed for classification, those therapeutic eyes, or that
groggy intonation: so misspelled, or such a magnet, at diagnoses for one so
bashful: a Hulk temper, a remote hostility, asked repeatedly concerning mother:
a broken home, or neckbone city, a little juice for rice: an eager dilemma, a
cradled predicament, while saying nothing: befriended through ruse, if but a
lucky confession, where a child studies those eyes: trained in arts, suffering
silence, a bit awake those nights….
…too
delivered for sanity, too purchased for liberty, for mother located a stepfather:
a different type, filled with Hulk, and offering Gotham: those dreary alleys,
those raging corners, a bit handy with fists: so close but distant, to witness
ingenuity, and reminded about good fortune: those reinventive wheels, those
inebriated moods, while alive for angry and damn sure hostile: so much laundry,
in perfect America, this home of screams: adrift at times, a bit sluggish those
years, while a bit displaced those days: undergoing shock treatments, in a
brutal atmosphere, but chicken was remarkable: some sort of seasoning, some
sort of affection, while eggshells lay before our castle: a bit frank, a bit
curt, plus, a bit apathetic: something with us, something about this
arrangement, a man attempting to harness a classical addict: those dreams, this
forced obedience, while lost in some sort of passion: new cars, a nice home,
and all for me: this scream she sold, those banisters laughing, those steps as
an embrace: those broken windows, those blatant remarks, my neck my pride my
dignity: if but to wiggle, as but to slip through, while cautious concerning
repressed feelings: a watchful life, a vigil diligence, a bit alert a bit
dusty….
We
see our dreams, some escaping our reigns, so we reestablish our enforcers: so
rare a soul, even a redeemed creature, while forgiveness comes at shadows: this
property for rent, this island amid our ocean, this place for our sanity: a
musical chair, a 7up frustration, or a talkative teacher: so dear those
seconds, needing but a glimpse, in this unmixed hostility: afloat with granny,
a broiled steak, and seemingly chaperoned: a small cat, a litter box, and a
good deal of authority: elders love animals, they see something different, they
embrace a comparable human: this little person, so accommodating, such a clever
confidant: a bowl of strawberries, sliced nectarines, and three plums: maybe a
sandwich, something grilled, as it becomes, eating means healthy: those events
in brains, those universal worries, or those hostile orientations: these become
secondary, where utter respect is primary, while too many concerns are
dismissed: indeed, a man enters his world, with irregular ideals, and our world
points to something indelicate: attempting to love, attempting to adore, while
physicality becomes intimacy: beauty is paramount, frustration is bottled,
where duties seem apropos: places for dinner, places for television, and places
for men and women: words found demanding, are words surely valued, while people
are wondering about one’s core person: soon revamped, soon reidentified, so at
this inner-spacial warzone: a bit pulled back, a bit infuriating, where America
is searching out entrails.
