…somewhere
grayer, some typical time slot, those binoculars, or that broken grin: to die
interior, to sweat suddenly, at a brief second: a hot house, upon soil and
pavement, an inner antique: those swift feelings, taken with panic, wheezing
and carrying dynamite: a furious spirit, a furious phantom, an icy and furious
freezer: so close to passion, so detoured by fire, alive a penchant and
breathing excitement: our bloated bowels, our pastime billiards, our poetic
pain: such by living, to assess this feeling, retracing a particular fragrance:
those sodden leaves, this stemming into flying, at something too curious to
discern: floating by ghosts, praising academia, or reviewing this psychiatrist:
our fierceness, or our passiveness, or something in-between: listening to
feelings, pacing stillness, accustomed to heavy starch: a conduit to you, those
paradoxical eyes, or this mixture of self and praxis: our customs, our suspicions,
our inaudible emotions: fixed in parts, unsteady in others, plus, our
infatuation with existence: reading theoretical criticism, sensing our repeated
persons, too refrained to suggest, I’ve met you….
…somewhere
colder, some atypical building, blubbering softly, becoming those persons we
feel passion for: our minds running, our souls debating, our spirit-intuition:
as fueled for persistence, determining our skills, favored in this helium
matrix: engraving breastbone, feeling this sunburst, listening to an undertow:
our palms with silt, while meditative, becoming our winds: a sore epiphany, or
deeper inspiration, while a foreign person crosses our spirits: splayed
asunder, our hearts to pavements, re-voiced by a choir of raindrops: this
sleety sand, this muddy seagull, plus, this raving highway: upstream silence,
beautiful emotion, a brush and paint and canvas: to relive this life, to ask
forgiveness, to ask fuller responsibility: this shiver request, as if
approaching Awesomeness, while brains relapse to infantile beginnings: such a
fiery kernel, so affected but standing, so encouraged to submit: this raging
and furious and dramatic glen….
It
returns with shame, those years shivering, while adult life begins around
thirty: sunbeam anxieties, snapshot evaluations, where a certain static becomes
our personhood: as told to change, un-noosing Honesty, or resuscitating
Socrates: such hemlock, such courage, while we debate Christianities: something
like that, those bolder statements, where Plato might suggest relocating: but
something grips life, something holds California, where something is critical
of this design: They see us coming—leading by their left foot—ensuring to
make us aware: such closed science, such a particular life, while one is
not superior: (I thought about this—this deep disconnection—as never would we
leave comforts for utter damnation): we may visit, or dear our guts
participate, but victory belongs to something looking normal: a polite/insecure
smile; a deep neediness to support our egos; or so utterly together we succeed
in their auras: indeed, that slipping sanity, those divine currents, or this
desperation to educate something slipping away.
…deep
black oils, amaranth frustration, looking into laceleaf: our daughters watching
life, or participating at cornerstones, or seated in something perplexing: our
women striking gongs, our minds revisiting harassments, while something
written is not always read: gazing over at coffee, trying to fathom grandpa, or
too imagine happy pain: fiddling a merry-go-round, looking at a sandcastle,
watering up at a first step: that snappy dragon, those rosy snakes, while
people are crazy over snapchat: this feeling un-chased, this pace a bit
gentle, while it would those days—as crazed participants, needing a good
feeling, so lazy Sunday mornings: or up and agitated, a table a pen a
night-game: something cozy, a friendly computer, a clove, an awaited
dynasty….
