…so
into mystery, cleaving to images, whereas, life is intuitive imagination: too
sweet and deadly, so encouraged by penance, too sexual, too frustrated, too
compromising: to shelter hostilities, too easy to irk, so calm, so
demonstrative, at pure satiation: inclined to perish, this programed existence,
or this battle with spirituality: so critical by design, too alert to miss
magic, too accustomed to ingesting shame: our miles, while eyes water, so
saddened sentimentally: such sorrowing, suffering, eclectic joy: at passion and
panic, secerned in pictures, a cynosure in disgusts: too beyond but captured,
too withdrawn but close, or too patient and eager: grogged in essence, so aloof
but aware, as blended but ruined: those wire-cutters, this wire-fire, or this
fence destroying sanity: to imagine touch, or ruminating cries, while at banter
and gesticulation: too pure, too sinister, too much a robot: so sensual, so
confirmed, too intimate with spiders….
…so
into chemistry, a sinful smile, our smaze-minds, our poetical dirge: cradled by
insanity, at crib-liquor, so dusty, so raw, an infant speaking reality: our
cosmic flutters, our misfired energies, while insisting upon an intimate song:
this ring-castle, our extraordinary hearts, our karma talents, our mandolin
fruits: at sweet mandarins, or petal orange lemons, so sung in us, so crazed by
existence, too pure to resist: intellectual posies, flowering persistence, to
see, need, and perish in degrees: or so close, so effectuate, while effeminate
stars deign in frustration: this crazed mask, our interior vizards, at virtue,
freedom, but desired to dominate: such lazy trust, this incredible, airborne
lamb, at perfect pleasures: to crave you, to insist upon you, while imposition
seems so elementary: such spotless knowledge, such wisdom-fire, but far too
gracious….
…this
shiv to fuss, while relating in harms, to realize something crucial: for it
matters not, our dearer possessions, we yearn and die and weep intimacies: but
Love seems pious, while many have deluded intensities, while many have
disappointed trusts: this older spaceship, this crisp planet, where youth
desires eternal properties: our challenges, our senses, our negotiations: to
feel importance, in those suffusing eyes, pouring into something so ashamed:
this man at wars, this curse his guts, if but to near something holy: osmosis,
Love, or this sphinx, Pain, at Europe begging for something unnatural: this
fist with tears, this palm with dirt, or this heel with mud: at casual
censorships, where one can see entrance, so close it hurts to speak reality: to
know loses, to cleave to Eternity, where something is in deep conflict: this
vat of pressures, to see us writing, to sense a publicized opus: those yonic
arts, those unnerving beauties, so gravid, so wonderful, or too at ease with
determination: this fair creature, while needing instruction, so phrenic, so
polarized, at features, us, and deaths, Love….
…smiles
are costly, they engender our souls, at tensions, recounted screams, and so
unsure of how it transpired: to promise is so young, by evaluated seconds, to
awaken and utter, We still have universes: this interior fever, as it
radiates, where a winner is up against something heinous: shards hitting abysses,
minds climbing Joseph’s Ladder, or hiding in this voice-filled cave: this vox,
speaking clearly, where one never contemplates delusion: such radical faith,
this same in you, too beloved, such cautionaries, at something appearing in souls:
as never a few words, as always a tome, if but to spacial this unyielding fire:
our doors laughing, to suggest our entrance—into this transfixed society: such
ambition, but too far afflicted, conversing with this Argentina damsel: those
big bold broaches, those teal blue horizons, at something cultured for
lasciviousness: too static our sunshine, so unthreaded our weather, at this
Muse of Astronomy….
