…humans
get closer, an atypical miracle, at scents and devastation: some by rules,
others unruly, where beliefs are challenged: sipping gasoline, devouring
torque, and eating exhaust pipes: fumbling into purple, alive but edgy, at
typical ownership: to need like disaster, to cry a red horizon, at gut, at daughter,
at psychs: so guilty, a tight leash, or satchels filled with loose-leaf(s): so
uncivilized, demanding courage, while, nonetheless, more ego than love: sickly
for Adored, at rites those shadows, while filled with sexual aggression:
irrelevant bruises, even advertised, for Someone desires me: those court
eyes, this jurisdiction, while disbeliefs become blurry: our mazelike bodies,
our impressionable heart-waves, while thumping and rising such sweet explosion:
those faces, those years, to linger near dark ponds: those geese, those ducks,
at pigeons and late with realizations: such fuel, those eyebrows, as time
furrows, while delicate a racing personality: those features, this deep
reservoir, so colored, so exhausted, and reknitting an engine: if but those
arms, as always mine, this greedy gnome: so deformed, so angular, while bodies
speak in silence: those chirping beings, those musical elves, as reborn, or at
currents, while it felt heaven to win entrance….
…humans
get lost, phantasmagorias, alienation, so perfect, so deadly, as finally alive:
such a legacy, dependent upon relations, so biblic, while dying to know
reality: interdependent, intra-psychical, at an enter-state: to become jewels,
to die a rainbow, such animalistic works: to feel your soul, to know your name,
while hoping with honor our last horizon: so destroyed in you, as feeling
ecstatic in you, where tomorrow has little resonance: those vocals, this unsung
heroine, this interior protagonist: at blatant suggestion, so partial those
four dynasties, at corners in attics raging forward: our living minds, our
dying bodies, while something was vacuumed: such destruction, such reeling
anger, while mentally abusing such behavior: this rift in souls, this slice in
aurous, while rebuilding, blaming mountains, so slowly restructured….
…humans
become spirits, this element in crystals, those rising energies: to hit with
sparks, or to sprinkle incandescence, while such a volcano just irrupted: such
nose features, such interior eyes features, or so close it hurts to breathe:
our subtle belligerence, our cosmological frustration, at something too
epistemic to endure: those shadows, our insecurities, while too intellectual
for death: our reasoning clocks, our permeated brains, so feudal those delicate
points: as small giants, in Goliath’s world, while something so inconsequential
becomes rolling fire: to ache in us, to rejuvenate in us, to sit pouting and
resuscitating in us: such black portals, such redeeming mountains, while
inclined to rewrite history in us: such devastation, such raging joy, so
inclined to volunteer for addiction…this force in passion, this life in
postmodernity, where reason is challenged: such gray pillars, such forced
courses, while language becomes underrated….
…humans
are terrible, but humans get better, while being spirit-human is fabulous:
those times at memories, to ponder completion, to need something practically
impossible: to desire your suffocation, for so young in you, while years push
us to opposite dominions: or something delicate, our beating hearts, while so
close God is jealous: this feud in blues, this desert in browns, or this sky in
burgundies: such bland khakis, such intonation, while paint and glitter is
tossed about our lives: our living quarters, a literary museum, our minds but
mosaic tiles: to rise so early, to fuss so soon, where reality has started to
babble: our Babylonian hostility, our chandelier eyes, so vigil, so distressed,
and loving one last horizon….
