I seep
into the violin. I remeasure pestilence or shame or perdition. I rephrase
purgatory.
Such
murk or mayhem or maliciousness to
die so ready to love or to live so steady to abort;
by trapeze by
flute or by sweetness too rich and ripe; the countenance of ravished the soul
of remorse so comical so tragical; to outwit a mirror or to unlock inadequacy
so slow into hex by pleasure; so reinvested by radical lines to have, hold, and
claim hell. Those haven dogs, those dingo heavens or avarice and greed and
coyotes; (to have read each word to have studied cadence or to advise self
to walk forward).
By
pure violin madness, by purer viola mania, while a poet has been on trial for a
fortnight. Or such tiny increments into a symposium into those cares or re-found
for re-lost. Those gray beliefs so indebted to writers while credit is given to
excellence; by captured celloists or redeemed saxophonists so acute so
insidious at acme breakage; to have felt so deeply, while it wasn’t enough,
where sleet, rain, or hail—it never quite fits!
Upon seals or
feathers, at tears made muddy, while wiping dust and dirt from both face and
brow; those syrupy twigs, or clotted intelligence to sit or spy, or live by
dying; (our rationality, if not askew, it might deliver by entanglements; or
to feel too warm while becoming human or frantic concerning jeopardy). This
reign of souls those instinctive angers with violins raging into spheres; but a
maddening soul at compassionate rage such fury and incompatibility.
By roots
or kernels, at cadence or fire, aloof to something intimate; if but to locate
feelings if but an appropriate response while deep patchwork becomes an
emotional spigot; those whispering faucets those dreary caves while we
naturally open for some people; what is this challenge, this empty space, this promising
duality?
There
are trees in these forests. There are leopards and bobcats in our cities. And there
is treachery in our understanding.
It would kill
innocence where sociopaths win while reasoning naively; to assume a persona, to
dine deliberately, while planning to both scar and ruin a person; as to fain
this is normal or appealing or capturing. Where life is different, while
depending on forgiveness, while a person is trapped.
But days are
wilderness while investigating traits where some are so captivating; to need
that feeling to hear as it soothes where one is never aware: of bears and
rattlers or pits and rabbits at something that mimics our weaknesses; those
feelings those rules while earth is watching—this passion in personalities this
fuel in listening or this curse in needing.
