…but
eyes relocated, those losing meadows, to allocate a casino of winnings: so
churned with life, at dreams, professors, and something indelicate: returned to
self, but feeling off-centered, so scandalous a lie, so ruthless our concerns:
baffled, and damn near dead; gothic, and damn near purple; so introduced to
this tribal cathedral: so manic those skies, at something like peace, while
hectic animosity lingers in turquoise spheres: our dying uplifting(s), our
mechanical drapes, while drab, offbeat, removed, and too close for miracles: so
suffocated, while needing freedom, where one might suggest a sign: but God is
reading, and Mary is sketching, and ghosts are etching: at deep connections,
bodies feeling liquid, at interior museums: such strangers, so convoluted,
while dynasty becomes our friends’ opinions: hiking against death, while death
is laughing, to watch as death tripped, fell hard, and dislocated its
existence: so blue with you, so needy but resistant, at something feeling
incredible: as never an overview, or ever a debut, where souls joust at midday:
those trenchant murals, this low pointing, with something to die for: those
ink-eyes, those flippant frenzies, at lengths with torture: our leaking
lesions, our fretted mudpacks, at this battle engulfed and wheezing: shrapnel
and fire, islands and abandonment, or rules for loving others: while passed to
us, we shall not disobey, for such leads to ostracism….
…those
tragic fathoms, to jaunt towards destruction, while needing father: a beige
moon, a green horizon, as not prepared for war-terror: to bring into life, a
small creation, while Love crawled towards deliverance: those sockets, those
cries, those wires: such barb and deaths, such cranes and anchors, where one
dies for intelligence: our remoter feelings, while disagreeing, where
confrontation ensued: those quicker thoughts, those quicker replies, where one
agonized over disagreement: to flail ambition, to quell heart-risks, at fret,
bone, and terrifying marrow: so gutted interior, such whale-carry-ons, while a
gentle feather misused existence: our proud eyes, our prouder thoughts, as
pretending Anguish is filled with altruisms: our tragic curse, our flirting
angst, while cornered for ruined and needing a quick fix: at exulted pain, at
red rivers, while a monk just carried Monroe: those chambers, those perfumes,
to realize seduction: as abased and lonely, or ontic and relatable, at
something impressed as noble nights….
Hours
pass-by, darker creations float forward, but distant a glare those eyes: a
daughter born this day, a velvety blanket, and unopened sensories: feeling
mother as diamonds, alert to intonation, so comfortable with father: glowing in
sheer nightmare, a thumb, a breath, plus, drooling: a Tao heart, at Buddhists’
cadence, while Christianity was chasing: our lively beliefs, our catnip
agility, while cats weren’t permitted entry: that magnet instinct, those
craving tendencies, so proud our child needed mother: abashed and laughing, at
deep saxophones, while cartoon reality befell a losing crowd: this man with
concerns, this village for children, while Prima watches, discusses, and passes
into oblivion: at coarser aches, bleeding acidic veins, so painted in an
upside-down sky: our revved skins, our inverted souls, so welkin, so disgusted,
and feeling good: blue black passion, so filthy with grime, while Love adored a
dying creation: so glad at Love, this daughter emotion, to coo and clown and
cave-in: (seconds at peace, vexed by pangs, and unsure if baby was nursing:
those circular hours, this circular mother, where Love grew, and time seemed
vicious: so agonized, so kosher, where swans dance gently: those intrusive
eyes, those ruts made flares, at steaks and onions and living as a family: such
little training, for it becomes natural, seated, conversing, and misspelling
intensities): our held furies, such illumination, while it occurred a feeling
defused but dormant.
