—but
a hybrid kid running through cities so curt so violent so unsteady. but a hymn
in
terror’s
gaze
where addiction ruled as chief consoler. our
plaint
so crucial our alibi so furious our love so ruined; as tortured silence pelt by
existence while some vie for freedom;
this
off-course emotion so wrapped into aura where one has worked desperately—
it became me, a manic
man, a barred man, an uneasy man. so numb by structure, so divorced from
normality, so whet for a perfect woman; to project those woes or to inflate
with harmony while a woman is embarrassed to belch. but this is fever, this
alien we need where it touches souls so often. the Asian poetess, the geisha
queen or so thrown by stereotypes; to offend with a question, as to ask origin,
where Love rages like inferno. our Cambodian poets, our African poets, while I was
lost for one from Kenya: to perish irregularities, or to offend a professor,
while lights to winds the message traveled; or one so mighty, so high, as to
spread something too sacred for literature; but a cut soul, but an addictive
woman, while too many years have suffocated illusions!
I live
to rebuild while the building keeps falling where I desire a tenth chance;
such
a selfish soul or such betrayal this breed
while
we must confess—We were never taught! We dealt with fields, and lethargy
is genetic, plus, depression is ripping guts out of determinates; to happen
upon racism as to realize its foundation where one feels sympathy for the
offender;
but
this is fever, where kiss is our eyes, while a poet must reform.
such
dearth of words, such rigorous digging, where the ocean is leaking through;
this shoreline of abandoned daughters, or this pier of angry mothers, while an infatuation
is meant to re-fix a pirate; so much by strangers,
while
it becomes routine where a person endures much to prove stability; or over-there,
coarse raven islands, so intimidating while intimidated: at pure ontic fire,
our fierce majesty,
as
never an inclination.
—but a whit of fantasy
or a whit of attraction or too long with one voice; to tailor instability or to
rail at mirrors while a man unhinges personality; so feudal, but it meant
nothing, or so intimate, but it meant nothing; our core reality our sore
reasoning where it must be right! as crucial creations refurbished and set free
while needing our regimens; so flailed by injustice, so flogged by rules, while
foul winds continue to assail
rain—for deaths
were luxuries or diamonds were phantasms where touching was pure dementia; such
titillating spandex, such infuriating curvatures, while a man must confess his
mind for lusts; but creatures are sameness this fragile bridge where most have
undammed fidelity; our rules for whispers, our cages for determinates, while
kneeling higher upon our trumpets!
