…teary
these waves, attuned to psyches, reading closely: so stranded, at chills,
filtered in egg-yokes: our daughters, our souls, our bold, terrifying skin-mud:
so appalled, at adored cares, fleeing, galloping, returning to Eden: our swans—such
giggles, at purple or cyan endlessness: so kissed, Precious, so deceased,
Precious, while a strong aura: glowing in panic, affronted by thoughts, sensed as
needing one loyal member: hearing, Socrates, nibbling existence, blending my
memories: making muscle, removed and desolate, while speaking to professors:
sensing common interests, proud to read, Poetics, while cursed to review
this misnomer: at particles, too close to fantasy, while needing such to
persist: our classical situation, at cleaner feelings, while lost a daisy and
crying softly: this wild predicament, this teary element, so proud to own
integrity: in deep flux, laughing at carnivals, interviewing clowns: so
purposed to care, so elated to live, while dragging through darker memories:
this war is burgundy, systematic assaults, while rearranging a man’s
self-portrait: this flippant image, this deep question, while interrogating our
meanings: such faces, faced by indifference, so accustomed to confrontation: to
rub our world, to distress those persons, while unaware of my title: at broad
endeavors, rethinking this predicament, to want something destined to afflict:
this sick ass dilemma, this sick ass attraction, where essence speaks to therapy:
our casual interaction, our psychiatric language, where insults are painted in
presuming discourses: our future feelings, our welling emotion, while pictured
as one so distressed: so many ions, so overtaken, if but to pump our gas:
saying similar delights, suggesting similar agonies, while convinced I’ve been
forced so early: to reason this light, to die this legacy, to feel consumed by
music: tragic whistles, Homer’s anguish, at something crucifying: your eyes
debated, your angst tolerated, and your soul reevaluated: if but this crisis,
as removing this hook, if but some type of permanent meanings: too provoked,
choking existence, and vomiting something existential….
…teary
these days, but not fully water, but deep misty: so connected those seconds, as
passing concentration, refueled and living ignorance: but needing poetry, this
ion adventure, this onslaught of creativity, this individualized creation: our
daughters reading, becoming this existence, while our souls are raked, forked,
and slain: before this life, before mother’s uterus, before God’s manifest:
those brown eyes, those silky reigns, as retested to persist: casual affliction,
this gray area, where opponents act harshly: so hated, so early, as to
wondering concerning our destinies: so infatuated, so early, while pain rarely
loosens its grip: those early bonds, those fruitless ails, while dead to
surrendering dysfunction: but divination sings, as others debate, while
something new is rarely uttered: such nuance, familiar language, but such a
subtle spin: our truer colors, our argumentation, while something new has
appeared: this in-lake fire, those creative innuendos, those remarkable screams….
I can’t
touch it, this interior wailing, this monster at avenues: this cypress introjection,
this pash devastation, or this daughter too afar those oceans: to come through
deaths, to imagine living, while a happy life is a suicidal life: those agreed
poets, those disagreeing poets, to find where they reach: as dying frozen, or
dethawed by tragedy, so accustomed to ignoring poetry: those rude souls, this
reduced soul, or our daughter’s eyes: to find commonality, to essay
discontents, or to register bad speakers: so infused with nothingness, so lazy
to inquire, while deep sorrow has been vetted: our authentic game, our deaths
as pleasure, so close to barking under marsh: or tragic this penchant, so
private this success, while forced to endure strangers.
