(It
was life after death. Those figs and loquats. Or dusty delusions and dirty. If
to sing acapella means to stand lonely than many will join the choir.)
—I
sat upon a settee. It felt like a divan. I then reached for an ottoman of books—
It
felt like March while listening to sounds at the end of January. I remembered
deer eyes, crow eyes, even unseen eyes. I browsed a catalogue, looking at a
tuffet, and wondered about tomorrow: this timeless funeral those timeless
emotions while we kneel near a monks’ bench. Days have been silent and feelings
have been sharp and most are wondering about today.
I
walked along a highway. Birds were swooping and air-swashing. But something was
there: a poker-table a wine-rack, plus, someone’s chitzsu.
Later
I awoke.
Those
washed palms those screaming palms the travesty they’ve felt.
It
would be years until I saw into something roughly gray; to have experienced
someone to have mortar beneath nails where one argues to convince us: not by
tragic-star but more surrender by a location that kills us; over coffee and
cakes to evince something imaginary as if to un-pit something dormant: here’s a
bag of flies, they will live forever, just give me your word; or here’s a dying
legacy, and there is your child, what means more to you?
Later
I saw wild feelings.
There
is an outside banshee running with cobras both rattling and jingling chains.
It
was seconds before explosion—those familiar questions—when one has provoked
unstable circumstances: “Are you alright? Are you different? Have I done
something?” Such embarrassed guilt where clarity says its justice but life
would imagine one as crazy. The goal is utter control that deeper control such
as only by utter submission.
Later
I went to sleep.
Dreams
turned to tremors, a voice slipped its reign, while a mother watched and
listened; those rustic utterances those myriad tongues at both casket and
castle; by registered paintings onto calmness exquisite after something hitting
its high notes; as creatures unsung while we gnaw skies both found clothed and
naked.
Inrushing
doubts or a need for disconcertion at valleys and hills or landscapes and
screams; by cadent doors or by candent fires at such flaming metals.
