…gather
those pieces, restore a master’s sanity, glean terrific wings: become with
pride, guard against guilts, too silky to wit a masquerade: those numb
feelings, this destroyed normality, at ancient manuscripts: so incomplete,
looking at pregnancy, arranged to be polite: such felt fire, such gutted roots,
where many are playing their flutes: become ingenious, have legacy to insist,
challenge something darkened by existence: move with grace, enliven with arts,
so calm, so sweet, so deadly: become a woman, this hard history, while charged
by honesty: dismiss vultures, learn hard reasoning, invest a mental gong: this
phone war, this answering service, this sky-green, agonizing binocular: so
alone and studying, so filled and singular, so alive and struggling: as
feelings are plural, this tugging river, this flow doesn’t stop: indebted to
you, needing to please you, while feeling erased by you: as not for pain, but
my emotion, where we glance and analyze softly: sing with passion, become those
choirs, take from passion your song: thereinto, are grays, sensed as remorse,
while treading inadequacies—this filmed caricature, this intimate hostility, to
meet a person shooting darts: to wonder harshly, to have become something,
where keen eyes aim to relocate it: this machine land, this gun fever, at gummy
interactions: so crazed, so indebted, believing in evidence: but such
indoctrination, such inculcation, while Love imagines permanent destruction:
our haunted poles, our haunted totems, where, regardless of intention, it all
sounds like authoritarianisms: but speak with feeling, a blank poker face,
where Love realized a subtle lance: too gentle to evolve, too rough to
engender, or too amazed to compete: so embraced, so filthy, at too many years
by deception: baggy shoulders, a drunken face, while shoulders are at something
esoteric: or stalwart battles, as never to kindness, but expecting utter
consideration: but yours is wisdom, and yours is challenged, at times, yours is
melancholia: such functionality, or sudden joys, while beheld as a dear friend:
our mysterious inter-turmoil, our beating hearts, while one jumped in,
exploited sadness, and quickly escaped: a hymn for swans, a flippancy for
brains, while cultured to exist, wane, and pass away….
…to
dance acapella, such a lone wolf, or a gregarious interior: so egregious,
taking our blows, while giving our hysteria: so polite to pains, so indebted to
pangs, where something intense yearns for utterance: at blackness or whiteness,
as mulattoes or quadroons, where something is deeply different: our receptors,
our perceptions, as interactions have molded insanity: so blessed to have
existence, so charmed to meet creativities, but something remains a chasm in
light arcs: this probing feeling, this treasured lake, while Love is gorgeous
but temperamental: so early we see, so detached we feel, at anger simmering for
years: this natural sequence, this following ocean, so gutted, so polite, so
restricted: a red tress, or longer locks, while I met a hostile mirage: to hate
sights, to feel convicted, to exist a stagnated nomad: looking at footlights,
needing expertise, but meant to feel a bit too distant: this embrace for
reflection, this terror for differences, while many outwit our clocks….
