I
worry softly—abiding in masculinity, while passive, or feminine such pride:
allergic to happiness, seated over a burger, plus, a plate of fries: artery
pressure, mid-thought an attraction, mid-fury something alarming: this quest
for genius, this interrupted session, or appropriate limitations: afloat a
second, while winds are heavy, too accustomed to something ridiculous:
day-songs, night heaving(s), doing eighty but resting: hydrant woes, ocean
frustration, plus, this cheek twitch: our years are running, our minds are
watching, if but to imagine what’s stored in us: but Love is different, where
Love is proportionate pricking(s), so alert to flustered responses: plus, Love
aches, Love dies, Love feels goodness: so, approach us, ensoul a nightmare,
give life to anguish: our purple shivers, our tender rivers, while phantoms are
taking dictations: for Love is conscious, where Love is awakened, while we
skipped immediacies: hitherto, a phlegmatic droning, this inescapable distaste,
this interior privacy: but over there, those rose bushes, this incredible,
non-consuming fire: such a mid-soul, such a mid-infant, while Love seems quite
adjusted: eloquent professors, deeper anxieties, our arts stippling our
receptions: memoir mystiques, mis-measured mosaics, or matrix mesmerization:
our splendiferous souls, spun for satiated, while morning spawned something
slanted: so awake for you, but so uncommon in you, while furious with society:
not merely a complaint, but steep structure, so chaotic, so captive, so
seductively unsighted: our doctors—so consumed, this jargon, this jousting,
this jingle: while life is moving, where life is singing, while life is abrupt:
hereinto, a slight attraction, while imposing insecurities, to request someone
as magician: to need you, to ask for you, while ignoring this atypical buzzing
in you: our radiant ears, our radical assignments, while leaping for jumping,
into mythical portals: to possess a career, to possess a spouse, while a little
soul mingles and meshes and mangles our nights at home: such soft scented toes,
such torn, titillating seriousness, or waxing a welkin wave: so dearly
enchanted, so tersely disenchanted, as so simultaneous: this feeling in beige,
this woman is screams, or this emotion too haphazard to surrender.
I flew
the coop, entangled sharply, wrestling with demons—as inclined that direction,
as Love asked for features, to become so psychiatric: our gut-muscles, our
cigarette seconds, so enflowered, so embroidered: knit to stone, kicking
sensation, at nails, knots, and serenity: this failed rehab, this failed curse,
our highways seeming inappropriate: so damaged, un-deranged, at pigeons and
squirrels and geese: such allergenic energies, at Neptune, walking, too
pressured to forget you: those wild feelings, or those wilder nights, while
Love was absent: this reversal, this rehearsal, so rich, so radiant, and wailing
righteousness: this pain as beautiful, this wealth as wretched, so dissolved,
so infused, and too simultaneously: as adored in you, this frenzy in you, while
you were crazy: those bold, bright, big, treacherous, even demonic eyes: such a
feature that moment, flickering a hairbrush, so indebted to pure, raw cocaine:
as a daughter looked, affected deeply, those psychical energies: so moist in
rest, so impassioned to speak, while too exhausted to hold converse: photic
midmornings, aphotic midnights, so melodramatic—so effused to scream: as but a
fool, so dear to heart, while Love ached and broke life—too captured to desire
freedoms: this thing we ask, if but to absorb you, if but to become every
slithering, nonconformist, even tantalizing sensation in you: as souls at
calories, if but to exist, those frames bleeding, those pains screaming, if but
assuaged by phantoms: our deeper intensities, as belonging to life, while so
enriched, this bloated tinge, to die in dear goodness: those surreal brains, so
close it alarms, while closer we become so distant: so greatly powerful, shared
with fevers, where something explosive is held hostage by fire wicks.
