I paint to feel so
many deaths so deeply messed with; our banners our mid-ridge helicopters or so
unclaimed it was heaven to die; so with you or so gone or complete devastation;
the blue moon the raven sun while stars tripped and fell low; earth like
winning, pain like winning, this aim like grinning; a small child to fit a palm
while love wears its finale; to backwoods this scribbling ant while I fear
bulbous wits; so many loses so many crosses while pleading for a friend’s soul.
Such
bequest such rest, Love, to have met and need reverence.
To
imagine Mary aglow with Joseph while it becomes Israelites.
It
can’t matter, it must live, while I search parting hell; this ocean this grave
those farewell penalties; so suspicious so calm while it was life to freeze; by
gravel to confess this deceptive mind where a man must be careful.
I
see hectic lights or roadblocked potentiality or curses tasting like dynamite;
so gone those days searching out Black Jesus flames, or unraveled sensing a box
unfettered but captured.
His
haven his ghost or deserts by creeks sipping indifference.
Wild
hibiscus or torrent seaweeds as identified by those we adore; but fleece or
inks but gallons of determination but wealth or struggle; such gas the distance
such restraint the magic where invincibility is a nightmarish scream.
It becomes its
wires its thoughts its deeper ditches; it shifts while normal it lies while
pavement it laughs pure silence; such abstract math such concrete abstracts so
rich its hemispheres; to perish a mere cub, as mother-bear went crazy up at
Norwalk pitching quarters; so filmed for violence a partial aberration while
daddy swore to an apparition; so floored and demented or so appropriate and
demented while an argument might mean our disasters: I hear it afar this
red/white paramedic while momma is screaming in a padded room; where was love
and where was aunty as grandma came and passed a cigarette; those wrinkles
those facial bars while winded and looking stoic: I disappeared!
Too
many to discount but a few to hold tightly while Love is a mixture; this
behavior, as it must dictate, while permeating ever crevice; such power, such
rebellion, while a man is sick for you.
