…let
grace be gentle a tender cub a paw so relaxed such nature and dimness; to see
your eyes as cascading into remnants little particles spelling our mis-identity;
so cursed to exist felt as something fantastic while wars are ensuing; such
breathless beauty those casual concerns where at sudden impulse the world
implodes…. I’ve lanced life as suggested in texts such terrible readiness; our
marigold season those weeds speaking their patience or days at eyes too
precious for deceit; the weight of a woman the delicate avenues of a daughter while
speaking of one we effect the other. I seesaw life so high and falling or
airborne unaware of a landing pad; to crush harder or to ignore existence at
something becoming quite plane; those older appetites this chemistry now
struggling or this new shadow that resists strangers; if but a marvelous mirror
even a lying mirror while we age into ourselves. so moon-shy or so sunlit at
sacred and cryptic cave-minds; fiddling mindstuff or deeper into concentration
or mundane rebuilding something without a foundation; this sand-house those
sandcastles or this edifice unbuilt but floating into rivers; our casual souls
our religious souls where most, if not all, have worshiped another being.
I
grow weary of platitudes I grow tired of vicissitudes insomuch I grow leery of
rethinking disasters; our deep blue connection our devastated certainty or our
jacinth battleground.
it
becomes tentative joy or tenuous happiness at jasper homes; this stubborn rug
or Angie’s milk catastrophe while remembering a little infant crawled there; so
close to redeeming you or so close to getting further away while too close to
see you; our thoughts sky-walking our wants confused as needs where it would be
deep misery; as people do not forget and they hold to dear iron this ferric
agenda: I remember you where you died and life reneged on you; this desperate
curse those desperate eyes while where one is at isn’t as meaningful as where
one once was.
but
determined to climb this mount to unbind fate as to unlock faith; that power in
us this defeat we outwit those negatives turned into triumphs; this combat-zone
that young Ground Zero or this hero approach; those zenic alleys this omic
insanity as a woman went so far as to lose existence; this radical chase this
fever and plight so raided within so cryptic at flight to challenge, insight
and persevere.
a
daughter earmarks a catalogue a father picks it up and a mother orders the
item.
I
never intrude with you but soul to brain a bit curious about you; this dialogue
so unvetted our reality so flexible and fluid while one speaks with such
absolutes; to tarnish another person to ignore mercy as to feel like essence
and substance are indebted to us; but that tangent has been exhausted and those
winds whisper excitement insomuch as our souls are making fire.
the
dragon is moving silently those wilderness-flames are resting where it’s not
about fitting sockets. it’s more to authenticity while walking through hallways
at moments but a bundle of bolts and screws. those hearts so contagious a
kingdom and one queen our souls losing our Africa, our spirits losing our
Hellenism.
