—maybe,
or maybe more, or doors wide explosive, maybe I’m sick. I adore furious people
this fire they carry or this naïve position on things; verbal whetstones or
electric sunbeams or interion, capitalized resonance; to obey Invisibility or
to feel so jaded where each sentence causes tears; aborted politically or
uncertain too often or so epistemic people disvalue your company. we
face
conundrums, something philosophic, while technique is systematic doubt; but how
has it been, while we become disillusioned, where
her
passions become analytical; living by consensus, or chasing another person’s
ideals, where looking at you is like looking at a book—
such
indoor
furniture such
purer
diaries, to afford cringing that way; this criterion for
personhood,
this exodus agenda, while
our
genesis is deeper insecurities; somewhere like the Guggenheim as feeling most
complete where no amount of preparation prepares
for
those feelings;
such
charm so explosive where we become
so
defensive—while we seem young; that temperament we cherish, or our ailment-responses,
or needs for total surrender; our fiats our dictums our elusive axioms;
or
those few, for some must get it right,
while
renouncing, like most Sufis,
this
visual existence.
Snapdragon
was an abused child. His parents did the project little justice. But Snapdragon
was prone to flights of idealism. It may have been the seas, or the skies, or
that astrologic disposition.
Snapdragon
was considered an anomaly—for there isn’t but one consensus on normal—and this
has caused so many successful, charming, and compassionate people tremendous ingratitude.
Snapdragon
had a friend named Sunflower. They would debate or discuss this dysfunction
they saw in their homes and its effect on the way they felt about people.
Sunflower,
looking to stir a little controversy said: “Snapdragon, how will we love our
children? I mean, we haven’t been taught. I guess we would know what not to do;
but aren’t we a bit destroyed for the mainstream population?”
Snapdragon
was irked and said: “Forget the mainstream! When one is not challenged
everything seems perfect! But each of us goes through disappointments. We have
been granted a gift; and I believe we love harder.”
“How
do we love harder? We have no clue about what love looks like: all we see are
addicts and cheating and yelling and screaming, plus, rapes and pedophilia?”
“And
how have we responded? We know good behavior from bad behavior, and we
understand the texture of each one. So, stop it! And stop it now!”
