I chance
torpedo(s) a livid humility those strange elements—this caged soul this
flippant inner me or to love and adore a bit neatly;
this
abused man, this forgiven man, while hurting and devastated;
to see comatose to
feed with disaster while mother is ten blocks over; this woman, so eternal, a
soul at this ancient revenge; to know those B. C. days this infinite war while his
box is something extant; to meet in pain to know your rain while eyes are
glowing with Jesus; this daughter warfare this penchant gut this tear that
fell; but a dead life but a liquor feather or at this majority trying to inject
a new Law; this system gutting this obligation ruined while I loved like a man
begging Jesus; so social so alienated while utilizing a gift that ostracizes;
but a thump to forget but a daughter to unclamp or but so much raging pain; too
low to die too happy to resist while it was late into those evenings; this
sacrifice, this curb, deep into Santa Monica—
this Promenade
this glue this feud this warrior; to have for perfection to discipline
something inside while becoming so mean or distant or a hypervigilant sun-crane;
so cultured in essence or so protected by hells while heaven is adversarial—those
hopeless winters, or heavy a furnace must relent, to die but affection some
type of peace; at deeper disgusts at daughter a station while drawers are pure absence;
this search to find me this found person while a rut dissatisfied; our courage
mounts our mind-hills or cameras too close its hard to shower; this lawn of
ghettoes this dirge gutting or this Haiti understanding; to count blessings
this ancient Egypt this filmed sky.
I would
adore an opportunity, but measured as lowly, while we need one trying
desperately; but I write I school I feel mostly an unvetted Christian; such as
mystics fueled and flamed to offer this belief; somewhere too smart or
something confounded while distinguished as an energy; such munching realities
such hunches for years while determined to make them fit; (even a kitten
hisses and a puppy growls and a cub might bite); to dream in plaid or to
flourish in hues while talking feels good; to get what we ask for, to become
disgruntle, while this is what we looked for; such secerns or to discern while
Love was beautiful that class; those khaki pants those hips that face—a man
un-grouped a soul needing endlessly where one creature is so determined; this
myth this office laughter where hollering seems pathetic; to walk home to kick
baskets or to witness a yellow and purple duck; so far a disgrace so far a fake
existence while one would pretend as royal; this ruined me, this sexual
science, while just close to believing in phantoms.
