Our
mystic resume. This second return. Our spiritual math. / So long while quiet.
So silent with loudness. So cultic and rejected. / Those ceiling petals. This
salient rose. Our days scribbling gently. / Taught and released. Captured and
taught. Reknitting rooms. / Our telic feuds. Our relic muse. Such raw identity.
/ Slight abasement. Mirrored rivers. And deliberate distractions. / At intimate
shyness. Listening to vocal undergrowth. Our region—our pigeons. / Fleeing if
daylight. Accursed those good ones. Lights to gravity. / This long table. This
bread with yeast. This feeling in scores. / Apologetic for living. Or forced
underground. Peeking and peaking. / Strange wilderness. Intimidated forests.
And mimicry. / So hated by self. Such cadence in self. Aware that company is
good. / This creature by language. Our souls struggling. Searching Dante’s
pencil.
I
gaze over afar: a nail clipper, a thought, an intangible image; this is
perception, this projected mannikin, our ingested fuses; a bit unplugged, a bit
rebooted, into mystic software.
A
white ink-pen. Straight blue lines. A sleepy receptor.
Our
mystic resume. Our years at orison. Our days rehearsing. / Our prepared fruits.
Our tearing bags. Seated with superglue. / So restorative. So free at running.
Our bodies edging forward. / Too much detachment. Too many bullies. And
defenses become aberrant(s). / Super emotion. Dying for pleasures. An offense
to self. / Or moderate fire. And moderate existence. If prepared early. / Those
mystic sins. Those cultic chains. Our fair weaknesses. / A sword with feelings.
An atwitter system. Magnified by unreality.
I
pry this soul. Laden with reception. Refocused by concentration.
As
needing this compass. As indebted to fire. Reliving our treatises.
Those
long cagey roads. This flute made diamond. Our sin freely.
By
cavalier concrete. Or abstract jelly. Feudal with this mirror.
Swans
gazing skies. Families strong with fervor. Or tears attic flame.
Our
purer motion. Our dearest fallacies. Our reasons to seclude.
Our
mystic wires. Our love by redemption. This essence in minds. / Our sky planets.
Our voyage to orbit. At rockets by fierceness. / Our mansions. Our exercises.
Our dreams. / By revving arts. By aperture hearts. Too in to retreat. / Ezekiel
and bone. Elijah and cave. Elisha and tunic. / Our souls communing. Our minds
but participants. One focus. One scream. One Bulwark.
Our
casual hats. Our supernal adornments. Our mental attire. / Loving our friends.
Or loving our bias. Or above at airing cries. / So close to mistaken. So
intimate with tendentious. Needing a bitter reality. / Or reliving our parents.
Claiming differences. While rebuilding their palaces.
I
drift. I return. I evoke mystics. / This pith in religion. The needed filter.
For Body and Blood! / Our aches over ritual. Our concrete hounds. Our symbolic
Judah. / At Daniel for wisdom. Or song of my song. Or dancing with
David. / Our years such sin. Our tribunal a main event. Our entrance shy of
complete. / Those rubric feelings. This mandatory language. Where a man must
repress.
