Those
strawberry streams as caught in webs to die delightfully. Those raspberry
screams as something universal our beats our strengths our successes.
I can’t
sing like before those symphonies at peaks our minds sedated; those oranges
look different while allegiance has become writing where a box laughs at
miracles; this crucible this furnace while refined it continues; nothing seems
sequential while ghosts are appearing and silence is like condoning; our shivering
understanding this space I’ve located or this tale concerning duration—as outliving
misery or catching joys where something irregular is tripping wires; a strong
engineer even pruning gardens and watching as sadness seeps into its legacy;
those grave passages this erased yesterday but it arises daily; to fathom
aloneness where this game is agony while focused and driven and losing. It must
become hemming and it must become helm-time and it must become an arrangement
of colors; for you have life and others have destiny where some are too
accursed to rescue living; this gallery of faces this future of newborns while I’ve
missed the point of existence: those small bundles at a strenuous career while
watching as they age—those portraits those living-room rhinestones this outrageous
television; looking for reprieve or settling into a dungeon while everyone
knows better about my life. But something is beautiful something living through
dying something afire in wisdom; these hunches those prophetic insights while
chasing knowledge requires too many loses; this dangerous field those walls at
gates and fences and required to understand; to realize what people deal with
while trying to imagine them while it hurts to realize they would go through
that. Such spatial metaphysics in the realm of actualities where adoring
becomes difficult. This polite exchange this internal whisper where
indifference becomes the living subject; so afar from you so near to you where
another feeds and feeds but he doesn’t want you; so long at existence so
churned by existence but angling to exhaust existence; for something is so
strange, it abandons its jurisdiction while honesty places the poet on trial;
but a life or a passerby and looking at his life; those tests this feeling
while something is quit physical.
I can’t
sing like before those orchestras those naïve and joyous feelings where a man
chases wisdom and loses a few comforts; to see people to adore people while forced
to accept us; this curious California our raging sun at moonlight conversing
with closeness; our private concerns, our private lives, and digging or
uncomfortable with our senses; this man with inconsistency as something
harnessed daily where one is crucified by something that doesn’t respect its
reflection; to find a deeper truth, in this challenging globe, happy people do
not cause pain; or more, as happy is such an implication, people with purity do
not relish is causing impurities. This dream we see this feeling we undergo
while emotion is quite natural; to dislike a man, and to wish him glory, while
walking away feeling deepness; our screams wrapped in furies and our minds
fleeing our realities; so acute in you so lost for words in you while I see a
perfect picture apart from you. This need for those smiles this deep affection
as a man realizes her effects upon him. Those weary emotions at so many years
while we grow attached to certain odors.
