about
portals but guilt and viewing at triumph but pain; to lose sanity or to forfeit
normality where most are so desperate to achieve balance; this cultural
community this essence in pure mauve at violet streaks racing through charms;
so ruined inside or such a countenance inside where rich feelings are
suffocated; the lea and leaf those fungi and frogs while a poet is composing a
concerto; to remain close to orientation so conformed by melody at something
too engrained to fight its force; our baffling hours our glass with prints our
DNA so spiritual; at boredom but arriving at Love but misunderstanding while
it’s hard to relate to something adoring this poet. I sputter and reclaim the
wheel at fortunate fate or fortuitous preparation; as once ungoverned or
chaotic while life was spinning her galaxies; so sudden to read it so aglow to
decode it while Love is something different; to need such emotion to ask for
such torture while a man is too indelicate to win Jerusalem; this interior
guesthouse those portraits where a man might if Love is ecstatic; this grave
with inscription this early arrival a man pacing his plot.
…so
low you are or so melodramatic at theatre and travail; our work as adults
flowered into fire alive but dead and feeling marvelous; this chasing ache this
dice farewell at colors and rice and feuding eternity; our connexion so
devastated our dinner so aloof while picking over peas and corn; needing pure
infinity and requiring destiny so to elope our eyes wide open. This Ghost is
purity but this energy is magnificent while courage took hope and made music;
our minds erasing our recollection effaced where Love damaged our perspective;
such spirit speculation such sells in scripture while one suggests a tiny
motivator; those days at regrets this guilt as vehicle while a deadman is a bit
more receptive….
…something
by which I hunger more a mere child fiddling centipedes or aware of something
within; we must for truth this essence so pure most of them were raised with;
it becomes science we devoid it of supernatural concerns and we teach it to our
children; it becomes common its looking like humans we even call to it by
chemistry; this actualized permeance this realized nearness while luster and
levitation become adolescent; something wants me, this becomes our toon, it
seems evident it becomes knitted by our desires; but so cold those dice and
shivering in summer while arranged to dis-permit anything from leaping….
…it
becomes wonder or spectacular impression by which a soul argues for longevity; our
rules concerning our beliefs our tunnels trying connexion and our recollection becoming
our presence; so unawaken so anti-those-people or such an inrush
undercurrent—those thunder born fevers or this essence as shared to wonder
would everyday be so alive; this different frequency this raging encouragement
where this becomes two underpinning realities; so flushed by you but leery of
this trail while early on trust was kneaded, and for some, quite
appropriately….
we
conclude after saying so little while many laid claim to definitions; letters
become realities where feelings are absolute while emotion must be concrete;
our unsure planet but shore to sand if but to relax while Love provoked an
electric company; our fluttering breaths, our canvas in hertz, so terribly
unrealized—at dreams or tensions unstudied by axioms.
