I
drag home, alone a zone, curious concerning Love’s response: at daughter
thoughts, at mother thoughts, even a greater elder response: those years, a
century strong, living simplistically: at pure obedience, or a political icon,
a responsible dynasty: or Love’s eyes, or Love’s attitude, too rushed to kiss:
our familiar insecurities, our daylight ghosts, too socialized to win: such
riddle, such patience, our nuns, our priests, our deacons: appropriate
behavior, versus natural proclivities, while there’s underpinning chemistry: so
sexual, such cadence, while many fail our enterprise: such a delicate phone,
such cryptic vibration, to arouse sweetness claimed as darkness: but life is
suppression, where many sneak into Egypt, our California hallways: so Europe at
moments, pining gently, or a bit frustrated: our super-conscious reflection,
our minds preaching caution, our bodies laughing insanely: or Africa America,
mahogany/ebony texture, too analytical to breed connection: at Asia sensing
deliberateness, at our memories, where most cultures are distinctive: but life
with roses, a petal to graves, roaming interior prisons: those electric fences,
those guarded gates, where many are looking for segue: a tiny crevice, to fit
halfway through, while stuck swatting gnats: our kleptic thoughts, such
egregious reality, while Love has an egregious perspective: such fire those
days, mingling with Hindus, or spinning a Dervish, rereading Sufi Literature:
so Rumi my heart, so Malcolm my pride, or so King our promise: to die what we
live, to build connections, to sing a solemn happiness: revoked feelings,
vetoed emotions, while struggling to contain expectation: so wise those claims,
such an invoice, while reluctant to pay: for cargo was shifty, items were
destroyed, plus, I received less than what I ordered: our metaphoric
atmosphere, our simile empires, just to say that, Love is irresistible.
“Tell
us about Love, this flowery creature, this deep contradiction”: I desire much,
this furious dancer, this waltzing massacre: this received Diamond, this shared
Frequency, too robust, too infuriated, if but to capture such violence: our
running arcs, so lascivious, so fraternized—as dying with chains, so roped by
society, so indebted desiring ultimate freedom: such payoffs, such richer antes,
where some died doing things their way: a million sacrifices, needing
celebrity, where a woman becomes some poet’s muse: such leg muscles, for a pot
belly, while Love desires a Kingdom: to dalliance and deaths, or perfection and
disappointment, where we expect something on call: to ravish Love, where Love
ravishes returns, so magnetic, so uncultured, to imagine this exclusivity: to
need Eternity, to relish in mysteries, so webbed, becoming ravenous: at
restructured compassion, refilmed by interior, to extract something so
anti-lady it feels good.
“Tell
us about Holy, this substance with wings, this living contradiction”: I desire
this, those nimbus creatures, but familiarity dislodges impressions: this movie
playing, as our eyes close, where wakefulness and rest seem to mesh: those
incredible daisies, fawning lasciviously, such adulterous worship: so poised
and watchful, so thrown and susceptible, or so in each second: those flaming
emotions, such realized needs, where relationship means, I worship you:
so radiant, a living Ghost, a child by indirect hands: so quasi-religious, such
a Raja brain, too electric for sockets: those rocket hips, those astride
possessions, or articulating Kant with ease: our Sister Soldier novels, our
embodiment of Robert Greene’s soul, at this delicate, indestructible genius: those
in depth solutions, those insoluble
sensations, so righteous, so wrong, where intimacy deserves complete
acceptance: our rules, our demarcations, while certain types have little
meaning: but Holy is Love, where mystic wires tread gravel, and mystic water
rises upon higher Kingdoms: those feelings, this bath, so baptized, so
incurably existence.
