I
sense this compassion in life this deeper anguish or this floppy utopia—as it
angles and shifts into perpendicular chaos resolved in soothing sounds; our
deleted anxieties in a given moment while strangers and seafaring aggregates;
this mass of science where participants speak a language so akin to divine
fire; as found in time watching hands spin at a tender flourishing phantom; our
terrible happenstance our unbraided realities while birds chirp and dance so
livid it excites; our beautiful rooftops at alleys running into skies to exist
where something is damaged; at pure emotion so loud our neighbors worry or so
silent our souls cringe.
I
can’t remove the crumbs and I can’t reignite the flame while so close to
re-sparking an interior wish; such dynamic mystical beauty where a child was
existence or a young woman is goddess—this empowering machine this steady ink
or this incandescent eraser to find with passion this angel in angst while
exhilaration flowers and flops and kisses concrete—so alert to dying or so
fevered by calamity as rebuilt and unbuilding those falsehood sandcastles; to
avoid our public insanity or to reread Women in Public where something
is stated so clearly only daftness ignores it cries; such magazine problems or
such universal change where a poet grips this world and chunks her so far she
relapses.
Such
epistemic soirees at blind-sided casualties where a woman goes for gusto and
prevails; those unspoken exotics or those erotic candles at fury and fire while
filmed out loudly; such miracle and disaster such zest and zeal at essence
built but defacto or existent but unsteady; this black jaguar or our pheromone
ghettoes reaching and penetrating nationwide—seated in army fatigues so
prepared for internal war to suddenly cry out and bathe in dust; such demeaning
value while so certain our existence is ephemeral where negotiations are but
sediments and dirt.
Such
sweet elocution struck and hanging by execution those fragrant thoughts to
identify the unidentifiable; marigolds at attention songbirds giggling and
music resounding—gypsum in motion and syrup dripping into this land of milk and
bone; such nectar and honey such soothing forethoughts while a true mystic
returns to his troubles; the futility of foreshadowing(s) the anxiety of trying
too much while true poets die time after life—the angst of foresights the pain
of resurrection or the travesty of fixing a shattered mirror; such heart-keys
or sweeter passion as aborted to rebirths—into a second and needing reality so
fixated upon pearls and winds.
So
adrift younger science while flippant about non-reality where such is
devastating chaos; lockets splayed asunder or physics at its gusts looking and
demanded into this fiery portrait; our participating agents this wild Cajun
flame or detoured for moments switching into fairer cries—our stones by birth
or our maturing sciences at years so threaded and sensing its coming; our dread
of endlessness our remarkable present-sakes if but to fly and soar as broken
feathers; this mad material or this lake of lilies at such richer resilience.
Such
higher frequencies abandoned to its manifest where true mechanics are held by
sacred hearts; those pools stirring this liquid existential our blended waves
seeping into relations; at sea-bones or ocean-brains where ethereal happenings
seem so natural; our synaptic wraiths our facial appearances by terrifying
interior beauty; to remove conception while seated in perception where deer
graze and watch and experience familiarity.
