…at
grounded soil, a bit low, so crossed between sobriety and liquor: to ponder
granny, while letting go, to up and decide upon clarity: so many miles, so deliberate,
so exchanged: at a thought, where thinking walks, to sudden upon sullen moods:
shifted, churned, at mother’s pottery wheel: those ghosts streaming, this
feeling obnoxious, while hoping for something incredibly wrong: to possess,
Love, to ache, Love, at fairer feelings: so cursed those lights, such samples
for novices, so rough, scribbled and imbalanced: those years invasive, those
dreams so childish, where a mind holds to impassioned monads: at Love with
indecency, or trying to feign castles, while one intellectualized pure
trespass: so much for laughter, or such tales for daughter, where if one needs
it one dies for it: a subtle secret, a blatant assignment, while our agendas do
not mesh: fairer attractions, bloated membranes, at rediscovered genetics:
those crying features, so abstractly indifferent, so defensive, but there and
lively: a few secrets, a few misbehaviors, too wild, or too wretched: our
beating charts, our musical arts, while Love thrusted for thrashed an entire
assembly: those diamond assaults, those cutters for leaves, or this design for
dying: as frightened deeply, but so mechanical, where a woman’s domain is
seldom complete: re-rivered, revamped, so revved, so challenged, so pictured:
those running voices, those times at thought, to imagine a life of softer
whispers: so enthralled, so liquid, while father became an apparition: unto
mercy, this midnight kiss, while fangs in Dracula mis-sung intoxication: so
promised, as ever a shoulder, while misused, abused and sacrificed: this
lowness, those screaming tentacles, while tugged and dragged and repurchased:
if but freedom, if but existence, if but an epistemic victory: at beer for
breakfast, at evening prose for lunch, or at energy drinks for courage: those
few distinctions, those few women, while ashamed something moves brains this
way: to name attributes, or refocus a night-scare, at paintings and portraits,
as advertised to psychic blocks: a mere attitude, too effective for discourse,
while one needed a mentor: so many hats, so many curses, so hidden, at such
hell, so crucified and conditioned: this lovely mud, those tumble sequences, at
something marvelously tragic: our baser instincts, to recap and rebuild, where
reality appeals to something confused: so black those days, so realized those
seconds, to imagine easiness comes with both clarity and distance.
We
console Time, we minister to Time, we see a mirror and fall into Time: unmixed
feelings, fastidious charms, so bridal’d, so achy, so enlove with members of
Time: those consoling smiles, this reassurance, where Beauty agonizes over
Time: so bloated, so arranged, at this agenda with Love: misspoken, unbroken,
fleeing into channels and canals, adrift a sophic star: our lungs speaking
linguistics, our arts so underdeveloped, while seeking qualified mentors: those
moon grains, this sun pain, at Time with deliverance: as spacial a creature, so
enlove with silence, at science attempting to woo indifference: our bleeding
clouds, such fervent rain, as sipping something acidic and muddy: so charged
with life, so frightened to perish, at both dread and preparation: our
daughters reading, our daughters sensing, our mothers a tear to buckets: as
nothing without Time, as everything with Love, while some dynamics lack
perfection: our shared rubies, our topaz mistakes, so infused, so inclined,
while pleading a turquoise sky: those memories sealed, signed, and haunting
Time: so nonchalant, at equaled frustration, removed but placed as cringing
those blackdamp(s): at deep mistreatment, afforded this fact, occurrences are
equal in every circle: so theological, so anti-theological, where humans add
another equation: ruined for prattling, discovered for writing, while appeared
to lights a darker heart: such permanence, so anti-permanent, and elaborated in
fleeting Time.
