we
could those tapestries those scars so intimate or unraveled. I saw you
bleeding. I passed a scarf. it has been so long to feel human. something was
reft from me; it has given me demons; it is amazing the hell we give! so
unsated but such a miracle if by tears we edify ourselves; pure devotion to see
inner diamonds while writhing or wrung by guts. but a glance where a man sees
ghosts insomuch as his ultimate pain; cyclonic fury or interior monsters where
it was beauty to die your shame; such fabric speaking love or days feeling
ambivalent while purity seems so consequential; our perfect souls our sanction
at sutures while passion broke, exploded, nothing but tragedy. attraction was
primal. I can’t explain it. it’s similar to denied ownership. but Angst is
forbidden. she lives in orbits. while it becomes whatever she decides. such
power. such galloping. while sex means we get along. untamed with fever. lost
& dreaded. such fury in crossing over. it feels natural. while living
unbolted. where we talk more than we aid. I would admire strength, but it was
anger, this sure space speaking vulnerability. but Anguish was muse, or danger befitted
motion, while one was hypnotized by regrets—this wisdom heart, these years with
pebbles, after something too unique to claim.
I
must resist our battle, if but more freedom.
so
rhapsodic this burning man as close if
dying
by treason. to adore but unsure where
loving
something was impossible; for death
was
heinous plus false imagery while self
wore
its mistakes: faith so precious to go so
wretched
while redemption seems by
unbelief.
to hate with fierceness if by picture
as
losing if but to unveil a pastor. our fire
in
prophecy our vatic eyes while swans are
instinctive.
those creeks those geese so
responsive
to inks. I must pursue our battle,
if
but more freedom; for inertia is deadly,
those iron capes, if
but only life by liaisons.
