I have
lived in us—such brutal invisibility, so clear at ambiguous times; the leaves
are heavy the squirrels are nosy where days merge into nights; this casual
maniac or this casual mania at something too crucial to existence; as,
nevertheless, this space-ball, this dancing antennae, unborn while newly
birthed; a man at agonies a freedom suppressed while mother was so very chilly;
a man with a cross a man with roads or a machete so close it reneges; indeed,
grandfather, to imagine the loss, while forced to pay homage; or rosy red robins
at turquoise-orange, so conflicted in this age; but a mannikin those years but
fear and turmoil undressed into something quite infective; this cursed genetic
this warm blessing while so wild and disillusioned.
such wounded egos
such reclaimed confidence to meet one dying to unthread. Those sharp lenses
those animal tendencies where one is lucky to repress naturalities; so dreaded
in souls so furious a daughter while I must ask for references; such babbling
inculcation such rude evaluation as it comes to a shattered mirror; to bury
glass to invent while current, a house storming into galactic spheres; those
light conversations, those few responses, as to determine something needing
depth inquiry; but hell be good, while grass is aflame, or students are burning
books; this appeal in nothingness, this philosophic outcast, where gin is
dripping his pores. Those alleys, Mother, those valleys Aunty, or wars and
stars and vindication,
…that
clown in me, this painted face in society, where each are so damned no one is
listening….
I have loved
lilies or anything that color or one listening to grandmother; our paper-bags
our deeper flurries at guts and wrenched so wretched the curse! those portals
bleeding this purgatory so validated while we live it with ease; our marketed
pains, our sorrow magazines, where she seemed so beautiful! this life of
gadflies this horse kicking goads or this sow newly bathed; so rough so rugged
or jammed or such a jigsaw; to move with incredibility or to admire her style
or to remove breath from something odiferous. our trials at night our jury come
morning while many have plagued this feeling of immodesty: as critical winners
struggling uphill while the landscape is terrifying; our minds and guts our
sights and furies while Love is too terrific a razor those petals.
I know
it churns. It kills something. but debts are responsible for joys; to imagine
our miseries, so intimate with failures, but sweet happiness we rarely chase. our
drifting weather our summer escapes while so rich it aches a bit differently;
those pencils breaking or erasers burning while electricity has become its
solution.
