you
two pop up or it seems amazing while I touch the calibers of life. such purpose
in forgiveness something neat or altruistic while a claim is meant to refute.
they teach us or we need it just for anything but religion. it shows in a
mirror this lucid creature and it laughs. I oil my scalp or wear white garments
where a psych is grinning. frustration leads to eating or liquor or total
silence. I found you somewhere, deep in there, looking at a thought. I try to
vanish but presence it steep and some are good at it. I speak a secret, hell to
our eyes, and more to intestines. a woman becomes different, we see it closely,
we wonder about its origin. such soft-spoken words to become wild while I imagine
you tenderly. by animals to watch or a Retriever to study where some pets are
attuned. I feel but so often to gander at clear skies if but to unrope
something nonsensical. I’ll let it go, or fret emotion, or go so deep the head
aches the soul is inverted and a thousand tears leap towards freedom. the floor
is noisy or the kitchen is dirty or I wonder about strict homes. a man is last
in line a woman must be feminine and children are oblivious. I concentrated and
felt a spark. I paused to rest and felt thunder. or I stood still where a swoosh
made its entrance. it seems colors are forming granny is cooking where grandpa
is feeling immortality.
I
wish more to hear or to gather while eggs are all about our castle. I understand
Teresa I sympathize with Catherine or I Exercise with Gertrude The
Great. but something eludes me, such immediacy, where one might love in a
screaming second. or this gray luxury to become so flowing if but to give life
to something dying.
it
was you the unbelief the incredible dove the fever at jamesia gardens.
it
was you I saw so mean or gentle where art tolerated Affirmative Action.
I
would learn to back away I would fathom those valleys but spirit cleaves or
thoughts collect while an inner world is immaterial materiality. a slight
paradox where blocks build as an edifice becomes visceral emotion.
a
daughter reads. I try harder. if but to educate.
it’s
difficult for pride, or unrighteous for pain, as but to release something
giving life: those angry mallets those treacherous beauties where marigolds
outline his grave. such fierce dominion, such deep Zen, while roses are dying
to one’s miseries. this point in clouds those reaching antenna if but to leap
one long, excruciating trip through sorrows. to imagine hurting or being
confused while one must live with abrasions; such mental physicality such psychosomatics
or paramystical connections lingering in space; but more to pavement or more to
next-to-me, albeit, deeper casualties center right at his heart.
