You
break seas listening or laughing or losing.
You
grip a pencil with such might to erase trauma; those ink marks such carousel
feelings to die or incarnate seated in purgatory; those games we play, this
emotion we cry, while both have damaged this essence we love; at shorelines,
reminiscent upon a rose, such highlights and getting old; to perform for Love
to dance chandeliers at Houston’s a bit too tipsy.
You
look perfection those boxcutter eyes those calves giggling or those hips in
aesthetics.
To
remember loneness to curl into a ball while gnats are concerned.
You
tape a thousand posts
so
alive our curse
it
has become sheer romance.
Into
something a feeling to agonize daily where we need closure. It was hells and
walls or concrete and mortar while tickled but sick.
We
dined beneath mudslides such creative creatures and we ate a pomegranate for
dinner; our rubber-band minds, our resilient penchants, to arrive too early to
live; as curious creatures exploring navels or trenchant upon an earlobe; but
days were concerned where riches were scarce and destiny was busy with our
daughters; our filmed souls our essence tornadoes at an avalanche and feeling
abased.
You
have remembered into something escaping while a small trinket has stirred a
night-scar; this test upon years this old dynamite while we have shared our
resistance; too remote from you or too into lying while honesty did sweet
justice; but a stamp-pad our souls typing our spirits living as diaries; to
invest so much in invisibility where actuality is right here it makes a man
question his sanity.
But
those screams or this raving to place a person in a category—where tender
mayflowers bleed or time has unattached into something too crucial to document;
our fair aches those few wishes but light has become four-faced; as delicate creation
or mobile dreams into something seeming its love. Such feral scars at wrenching
wails while an octopus is beating the poet; to die in wilderness or to feel
branches while one is hoping for Jerusalem.
You
sit in observation as one protecting God while prose only releases a portion of
what it feels; those complicated junctures those misread sentences where one is
not accustomed to eloping; to recopy pockets or to analyze flights where we
need a feeling proving superiority; this wealth in bones this agency in brains
where a man might surprise you.
