It's
terribly close, like three more pages, as figured to explore deserts: this love
account, this passive agenda, needing intimate networks: so judged without
sights, so destroyed but walking, this interior reality—so shaded, so rescued,
while needing a real human: this island of daughters, those irresistible
planets, our cute and insidious monuments: so flattered to meet you, so
inclined to mimic you, or feeling a bit shy: abroad a shoulder, a nature his
seriousness, a face lightening its sternness: at pure passion, so palatial a scar,
to give what a man doesn’t possess: to hope in you, to relive in you, so close,
so intimate, so vulnerable in you: acacia eyes, white porcelain pearls, or
hazel brown antlers: our tambourines, our emotional diets, or this pothole
seriously at revenge: such diesel fuels, revving up highways, or walking this
pathway: innocent realities, sexual creatures, while our thoughts are
airplanes: our cloudy mountains, our intimate survival, or this prehistoric
genetic: at jackals and hyenas, at beauties and treacheries, or something
needing something to relive within: our French horns, our titillating
anatomies, while wallowing low in this crevice: peering through binoculars,
listening to gut-phones, while a badger is speaking politely: our curses, our
love hats, while threshed and forbidden to exist: volcanic oceans, mudslide
insanities, while Love is too adorable: so alert to Kenya, so at wars with a
kangaroo, at such kamikaze relations: placating leviathan, this feminine
principle, knitting a bird, while forcing perception: this weight to relax,
those ebbing eyes, those artful illusions: so thrust in you, so abused in you,
while love is sweeter than granny’s tea: those guide flies, those fire demons,
so fortunate to become human: our spawned delights, our surreal magnet, to
sense such similarities: at Latin women, belied for culture, where some are too
outstanding: bitten in spirit, terrified to confess fear, while something new
is analyzed: searching for familiarities, such jaguar confessors, plus, vampire
fangs: our torn scalps, our bleeding intellects, such amazing terrors: to adore
as unseen, to touch at one glance, where poet’s wrote insanely concerning one
woman: that fragile creature, that fair warrior, or that incredibly deliberate
machine.
Time
builds conception, this portrait of woes, where it’s thunder to share: to
redeem innocence, to behave in favors, abiding in something resistant: to have
reality, to dance frontal lobes, at our mystic genetics: too smart to discern,
too discerned to escape, at something too clever to pinpoint: so holy, so
muddy, so at this daily warzone: too powerful, too overt, so seen, so
delivered: at curious cries, those curious fires, seated while feeling
something leaping: totally at mystery, unbeknownst to existence, where a stranger
has such a strange effect: this mystic flute, those mystical harps, abandoned
to this genus of writers: our genotype tones, our phenotype remarks, where
something gorgeous belongs to its sanity: so tugged, so pulled, so deliberate.
I
call to furies, sketching importance, or realizing many are absent: this
frantic concern, about something incredible, to imagine you driving this
terror: crocodiles musing, alligators laughing, or caimans confiding in humans:
piccolo typists, outstanding artists, as feelings intensify through
concentration: our black souls, our wailing orchestras, our sad and dejected
chimpanzees: as music strikes, where Love is awake, to confess as never another
creature: so pulled asunder, this theologian scientist, at such contradiction:
to meet fury, to flame fire, as something too close to cervical regions: those
longer miseries, our longer commitments, so secure, so at Love, while something
deciphers through gray hemispheres: as fer-de-lance creatures, or primate singers,
to walk and talk and reason through darkness: such trespassing creations,
looking at something glowing, too captive to quite discourage feelings.
