…so
bred to die, so infused to love, at poisonous grapes: wild and deceased,
refrained and deceased, so purposed to share mere seconds: primate souls,
gibbons and immunity, or something so firm it stands immortal: mimicked plants,
gregarious bees, so filmed, so embarrassed, so ashamed: those leaf cutters,
this ant hill, or this fiery desert: adored in dying, an effusion but living,
too cursed, too exonerated, while weaving heritage: so much slime, so curious
we live, at something too precious to sin: our religiosity, or suffocated
inclinations, at ropes, rails, and redemption: if but more patience, if but
anti-classism, if but those miracles: to love with clearance, to fracture at
lungs, where roses seem important: so many detriments, so many gorgeous
creatures, while petting our grizzly bears: tarsier eyes, waking hopes, plus,
too resistant to classification: our worlds clashing, our distrusts rapid, so
close, so warm, so defused: for life is momentum, where life is classification,
while we endure for our strangers: to need approval, to desire your praise,
where jealousy might rage as coyotes: but Love is knowledge, even feminine
species, so well put into society: our running impositions, our magnet fires,
so disinclined to apologize: such parent wisdom, such radical daughters, while
mercy appeared in a distant thought: those remora instincts, our privilege and
society, our remnant and pride: to adore, Love, this understanding creature,
while releasing something sure to disappoint: to exist our caves, to crave our
insistence, or to need our unyielding personas: as died to have you, at mercies
to extract you, while it has become hell to retrace you: flustered and frustrated,
such frantic chaos, to sit their looking impossible for submission: at eyes
staring, so unhappy with arrangements, but too satisfied to become estranged:
but Love is poetry, where Love is prose, while Love is replenished: but a
strong creator, but a sounding gong, at cymbals and dance and opera: too far to
retreat, too close to love, or too selfish to wait….
…by
a gentle hand, or a panda’s paw, while pleading a slew of questions: irrational
fears, sorrow indebted love, or two put right choosing to adore presence:
Tibetan Sutras, our Scottish Proverbs, either/or, those outrageous, intimate
eyes: a fire in season, a reluctant sword, to hit, devastate, and send into
orbit: our stronger species, our soul searchers, our surrendered successors: at
morning mist, at measured mechanics, or missing our madness: thrust, thrown and
tragic, banished, bored and blank, or wilted, welted and wrangling: those
satire eyes, those treasured afflictions, as never to forget such radiance:
eating internets, retreating into discomfort, at media suspension: so dear to
imagination, so close to invisible, while nearly tragic our minor concerns:
those prophetic palms, those proper palates, so palatial, so outstanding: if
but by agreement, to have someone chosen, as two grow into matrimony: our
rules, our demands, our currents: as filmed creatures, forever calm, but nigh
frozen by comedy: so tragic this art, as departing our senses, while Love was
so angry a storm ensued: our jealous hearts, our jousting havens, and so heavy
for justice: those burgundy moons, those droopy eyes, as realized Love is now
pure….
It
seems certain, while it appears foggy, while life is treasure and descents:
rebels play antitheses, conformers are a little hostile, while healthy points
to adjusted perceptions: those great sharks, our gathered souls, at peril and
gravel and senses: too much our flame, too chilled our epistemic, and lights
seem so ordinary: to imagine those sessions, locked in demands, where others
are taking to adventures: our bodily chemistry, our bodily preference, while
selected to meet Eternity: at waves and wretchedness, but beaming with beauty,
as such brochure witnesses: this cage we adore, those walls we cement, plus,
our garlic steaks.
