…unseasonable
walls, thin moldy layers, at ghostly ears: the pretty woman, her pretty house,
and so tragic those years in a wedding dress: too serious to miss us, too blank
to remember us, as souls unpacked, regathered, or unraveling upon sandcastles:
our seahorse depth, our octopus arms, while some wombs look supernatural: oops,
that feeling, or casual, perfected aesthetics, while saxophones blare into
orbits: unseasonable walls, unpredictable leniency, while re-geared to trust
emotion: searching in me, rebuilt is us, while afraid to confide deeply: our
Paris heart-set, those tetras cries, too close, too affected, while needing
more emotion: siphoned at hours, Whitney’s lungs at hours, while framed to
resist love: a major picture, such darker thoughts, while placing a butterfly
in this book: misled by Lucy, too young to decipher, while chilled by grey
privilege: to see as society, this threat in souls, while perception stems from
several avenues: a bit to insecurities, a bit to envy, and a bit to experience
toppled by education: as mentioned internally, our childhood orientations, so
simplistic, but so forgotten….
…so
many caves, such numbing inheritance, fevered into ghostly characteristics:
granny’s nurse, traveling by ghettoes, while sensing something noetic: acacia
gumdrops, deep plunder, fuel, zeal and missed messages: our days submitting,
our editors cringing, our stenographer heavens: those large diaries, close to
one thousand pages, while behavior is dressed by apologetics: to remember those
small eyes, to carve internal cedar, while mother has made her decree: memories
speak their yokes, by sunder, by rebukes, or signs scribbled in symbols: such
hysteria those days, while frantic and manic and raging for power: our lands so
inhabited, our petroglyphs those hands, while many will bless and curse you….
I
shifted eyes, dredging interior disclosure, and dreading a man’s cargo: boxy at
chimes, looking at pigtails, while purchasing a burrito: I heard stuttering, a
typical type of suppression, where speaking gives one a difficult journey: such
critical data, often overlooked, while another revs into unclarities: our
redwood condition, seated and waiting, only existing through perception: I
smelled gizzards, I lounged around, I woke up.
…attraction
is swampy, while fireflies gather, where frogs leap and aye-aye’s pause: so
distressed behind feelings, this canopy of emotions, torn-dusky, abashed
highly: those clever chipmunks, our disappearing army ants, or those desert
scorpions: so sentenced, to curdle at moments, a sour, churning poet: roaming
dells and vales and valleys—angling through crevices, longing for human fruit,
while something concentrates upon physical appeal: a man those dreary skies, or
a stomach for irrationalities, at a second glance those jacinth fires: our
spongy children, our outstanding, indivisible, and incredible mothers: plus, a
cool father, a cooler stepfather, while many have signed for the duration: so
numb, needing to become human, sighted in a lost land: those defunct feelings,
at something arising, while we remember certain emotion: as knowing that space,
relocated in deserts, where a woman caresses an eyebrow….
I
flog a vision, or stir a shiver, at esoteric femininity: so lost in feelings,
while some are forgetting attuning, where a man is an orphic fool: too many
ripples, too many stims, at roots sensing ghosts: puce deliverance, garnet
fruits, while one desires something spectacular: this all time job, this mental
serum, while floored to have met you: this distinguished brain, this
sophisticated treasury, while delighted to have mastered a sense for Disney
Land.
