At
times…
I become
you as a fragile or docile sentiment in flesh; or pure aggression, so proud of
a winning creature, such loss and gravity this soul by song; so privileged in
you 😊
or
so entitled it harms
if
but to realize how we measure greatness;
as many are latent
where a daughter is dormant while doors are wide open; but over-there, this
capacious furnace this phone this declaration; to abuse or exploit to mis-value
or manipulate while many are watching with closed eyes; this pit in chains as
to lean upon feathers while building haystacks; such pure rhythm, such
invocation, so bottled while growing oldness. I
become you
running through
sugarcane or climbing towers or raiding vineyards;
but I became me, a
whisper at night, a fever during trials, or a mendicant intelligence; while
some are angry, others are startled, for it takes great effort to contemn such
a legacy; sweet bread and jelly, or cabbage with pork, or extra cheesy enchiladas;
this welt upon spirit, this anti-telic vice, so certain about something
unvetted; our trust so high—people adore this—where I argue by inherent
absence;
to claim aphasia
those rough sorrows or to face
the human ape!
—you
have lost something where you have gained something while growing you have
become independent—
by melodic
inconsistency the world is chaotic while you have located pain; you know its
nature, or its origin, while father is considered mean.
In speaking
about mother, in my sentimental haste—I was asked, Is she a good person?
This
is an unfair question, to ask a person, where healing is this partly fractured
but stable agenda. It lives in many assessments. It follows a list of ingredients.
But importantly, it studies the psyche, the spirit, the physical, and the
social elements. With family, they can depend upon efforts. With men, it might
seem challenging. And with society, it might seem abstract. If we asses by
these measures, a failing father, might be a successful friend—or an absentee
might be a long-ranged hope. But we also suggest that, three measures out of
four, ranks high; where two out of four, becomes suspect, and one, or none, out
of four, we must protect ourselves!
we have
run out of space. we are situated as helpless dynamite. where we pay homage to
intuition. such smoky lights, such biblic riddles, such pure vagueness.
