I
throttle gently, or topple into silence, afoul a mess of emotions: to adore
pleasure, pain verses happiness, of course, siding with joys: this perfected
picture, so acclaimed as genius, while doting softly: sable antennas, a sable
body, such sable Alcatraz: something boding, a big purple balloon, or a radical
pink elephant: so close by Eternity, so aloof to Reality, roaming this sable
valley: at cable eyes, electronic thighs, while Love dances those melodies: at
midnight poles, a tear stolid, something meaning impassive: so alluring, by
radiant lure, uncured and tragic: those vacuum lenses, those optic lieutenants,
while ears percolate: ontic fevers, as relational fevers, while pertaining to
existence: such habit, such praxis, while rereading paragraphs: a man writes, a
man dances pages, while certain sentences capture speculators: this film as
explosive, such ruminating debates, while Love sits as if yesterday wasn’t
gloomy: such frantic arcs, such redemptive linguistics, at algebraic tears:
mathematical particles, symbols midair, so allergically tragic: fuses giving
way, oceans bright orange, at intellectual monsoons.
…it
appears dense, searching for openness, where sentences fall into cadence: at
Love’s beckoned passion, semi-disturbed, where humans are treated differently:
so famous a nightmare, at trysts and dynasties, while something unreachable
appears appealing: so torn our pride, so unpaved our churchyard, while an
errand-boy may tillage at three those mornings: our status claims, our interior
hymnic, while a rose has met our window: such zenic pain, tilling gardens,
approached by alarming life: those Ashrams, those gated communities, so
convinced or convicted: those different appeals, assessed for different
reasons, while both neat and well-kempt: at a violent war, at violent
happenstance, replete by ominous avoidance: those trialed kingdoms, this inner
community, those few potent voices: while so concerned, required to subdue, so
interested in containing monsters…so stolen from insanity, faced by objection,
reported as well-mannered: such mental wellness, as such a countenance, or
released back into worlds: interior serenity, chastised by city reality, where indecency
appeals to lower senses.
I
meander afar, meditated by perfection, as not some extreme moral creature: at
screening nights, some nocturne animal, or some daylight art: meticulous, yes,
demoralized, no, where something mixed seems appropriate: at bashful stars,
unleashed into privacy, while something immortal has arisen: too keen for
solace, too wild for freedom, while revealed in something mythical: an astral
heart, a magnificent gaze, while threshed and tilled by delightfulness: this
challenge in souls, becoming of mastery, while we tidy our sorrows: those
clinks in chains, those feral cartoons, this fragrant and furious flower: while
fleeing into lights, spacial for concerned, at blaring opalescent gardens:
those violet tulips, this dye is daisies, at music and power and passion: so
remote and concerned, so aloft and crafted, insomuch, as, deliberate and
passive: those green blades, this clump of desert, found or lost where gibbons
speak Australian: as concerned witnesses, involved in fervent weather, while
excluded or reentered into pianists’ heart-symbols: as fleeing into time,
re-chimed and ignited, at brilliant and flesh-like prophecies.
We
close with pressure, searching our canvases, and disputing our interior
portraits: as souls needing solitude, or whispers those far meadows, while
engraving existence: such fair wrangling, such fairer music, while something
quite elusive has become a shadow: our radiant dreams, our frontal-pose
notices, while we wait and dine, or panic over something we find adorable. This exposé of tiles, or those hewn
cobblestones, where we tread, fall into, and exist!
