…by
dreary eyes, or by deep catharses, our sunshine replenished; so uneasy,
listening closely, by which, we get understanding; harpooned at sea, lungs
battling, seaweed tangled nightmare; our plangent horoscope, our astrology in
tension, our souls released….
I looked
at carpet, this discoloration, this human configuration. I saw bells that
corner. I saw towers beneath sheds. I appeared suddenly. Lights were loud. I saw
a pyre of books, a soldier kneeling, a mother-figure washing dishes. I heard
earmarks. There were psychopaths. They were steeped in candescence. I approached,
asking concerns, as none are more analyzed. One said: Such songbird
devastation. Our lives with upchucking traits. Our fathers so strenuous. This care
in mothers, destroyed in parts, with little too much unnatural trainings; our
feelings running, our dreams as reality, so inverted and warring with
psychotics; so underground, so intriguing, where we each receive the most
attention. I gazed into her. Her husband was watching. She gave so much a
hug. Those lights dimmed, crowns moved midair, a fabulous creature appeared;
lakes were iced over, ponds were boiling, while earth was sky and sky was
earth. I listened closer. A group prompted me nearer. They identified as
schizophrenics. Four to seven were there. They seemed claylike; and one said: I
was never complete. I hid for so long. I beat and disciplined. My senses were
plural. Demons keep approaching. And something natural never really entered me.
I probed the supernatural. I made love with strangers. I died a second in pure
realization: as for the pain, my daughters so dismayed, while here and feeling
forgiven. She spoke with clarity. The others nodded. I appeared before
awesome radiance. Gnarms were speaking. Sheep were lions. While pure and
unrelenting sacrifice! Suddenly, a voice enveloped, a cavern opened, sky was
tugged from its center. We stumbled, a whale appeared, and our seas were sunk
low.
I felt
soil so long this trail and such mountainous cascades: I felt hills and dirt
and water becoming mud: I bypassed quicksand, speaking with an erudite snake,
crumpling briers and twigs; our mothers were chanting, this stalwart sky, a man
was welding a kettle. I thought: We die in essence, this quintessence about
life, so concerned with our neighbors; our veils unlash, our minds unravel, and
we spend a decade gaining clearance; such radiant flesh, so akin to Awesome,
while ever too unidentified to contain passion; such furious roses, dancing
mid-desert, our clouds such fire and smoke; drifting into reality, captured by
disorder, so split, so genetic, so behavioral. Those towels there, they
remain neat, but winds are blowing rapidly. This person, I have forgotten her
name, she gazes into something in there; as bashful creatures, so thrown with
difficulty, amazed by such receptivity: our uncured existence, our choice of
meats, while gnawing upon gristle; those terrific cries, this interior molehill,
where Kings and Queens argue; flooded so early, given modicum discipline, or so
overloaded I rebelled; this paining joy, this rich whirl-life, looking at
babies walking with temperaments.
It becomes
pavement faith, this obvious creation, while streaking through spirituality;
remaining an observer, or urged a participant, amazed by such silence; to
realize in me, this thing found repulsive, while enmity becomes a key
fragrance; debating this existence, conversing with spirit, amazed and alert to
its stealth; so destroyed and rebuilt, needing to reread Job, so filled with absolute
compassion; this rough assertion, so characterized by our adversaries, at
something that becomes pure; our jasper creeks, our soundless meadows, our
furious realities; looking at something we desire, hoping it’s something we
need, or better, hoping it keeps its promise.
