We
fall like lemons too ripe for season’s end or too heavy for branch suffocation;
we journey this life so many phantoms and such a ghostly prose; as hectic
creatures disputing truths while such are being exploited; to write through
fetters to rechain this fence at something becoming atrophied; our appealing
creatures so suffused with roses at diamonds and crystals and writing in
silence; those monster memoirs those caged conflicts or fire to brains while
shame is potential; our guilt-ridden charms as needing to lie if but to provoke
one’s memories; as hating to love you or damned to purchase silence at
something so critically simple; restricted to castles alive but withering or so
content granny is peeking inwardly; but time for madness and cuts for leaves
while adored in France; such pithy this or that and such critical assessment
where one has never mentioned its mechanics: assonance, alliteration,
consonance or dissonance, tone or voice or musicality as concentrating on a few
points—those vicious and loud points where stirrings arise and demand a
hearing; this court with one lawyer this lawyer as too the jury and this jury
as too the Judge; indeed, is sounds so familiar our striving for acceptance
while most have become refugees from America; but over yonder those sweet
apricots or that subtle guardian existential: those delicate sensoria this
fool’s playground while Love is too insatiable to partly insist. I found life
unique this hibiscus in fields the Orient in behaviors or this European in
writings; reading through Judith Butler, or dynamic a feeling in Maya, while
praising women for sheer resistance; so guilty to be human or so guilty to be
an addict or so guilty to betray trusts; as, nonetheless, this course in life
so caved-in while I do those things that I hate; a wrestling theologian an
idealist going too loopy or a manic while features appear at random; so
intoxicating, this difference as laws, or this person as incredible; our
grandiosities at something so amazing where patience becomes insufferable; our
humble selves our humiliation or one so gathered where existence has become
pure meditation; those concentrated hours or this relentless composing at some
person needing a particular science; our old life ways our resistance to
innovation while all persons have a place in America’s mind. I offended by
accident this psych madness while I mentioned mindfulness; this pain we piano
this violin we sky-craft where the explored is smarter than men; this inclusive
windmill or this galaxy of guitars while B. B. King is blazing his saxophone;
as a crazed inspector or a revving lieutenant so guilty her partner was
destroyed; this mantle with sculptures this sculptress with rules while often
we tend to hold so much back there’s whiplash; but Love is smart and America is
racing if but to put her in that tiny box. I must ask about Africa this land of
biblic significance while Africa is said to becoming Europe; such mulatto
crassness or permanence so loud it speaks its weaknesses; as resolved humans
and feeling like snow covered dung where Luther was in a dungeon warring with
psychosomatic screams; the walls' gawking the ceiling melting or such as
confined in a world rejecting God; such deep dejection at pain and consumed but
shifts and dynamite plus this forced hand by guilt; such neat obedience or a
secret that devastates and if one gets loud enough it might come out; this
world built by uncertainties where certitude is often aggressive and realization
is tucked in its gopher hole; our minds at risks, our souls replanted, while
another prunes our creativity; this indictment against nonsense, this fury with
established and unvetted authority, while some are so determined to re-publish
the God we adore.
