Nothing
but wilderness. So close to losing fire.
I
died those sins as having his cake by big body flames or soft a catch or raven
a match so secure in lies, a man fleeing a kite floating while stuck at
predicaments; to reminisce a kitten to hear a purr while so alien from me;
bleeding ink or craving power while remaining holy; such authority such
infallibility while a true human wrestles. I
spark a monocle or clear a clock where grandpa arises; this living agony this
time-saw at something so gorgeous—to have seduced or discredited disdain while
such passion—the delight most women take—into wells into wills where
brooks are claiming indemnity; our castles our grass our seaweeds—to redeem
creeks to nurture sensitivities or to feel heaviness.
Dearest
Daughter,
it
was small in mother this force she adored this perfect life she couldn’t reach;
pure disharmony or purer joys while needing palms and grapes and detriments; to
grieve in me to have died in life while tugging trees; this blatant cry this
midnight cigar or blood trickling from sap; to find pain or to stream rain
where you lived or craved or spoke in ink; this furious forest those gangly
gowns or afforded asphalt; this concrete world, this painful world while our
best ingredients are abstract; never a final thought, this war with modernity
wile most are postmodern; such deconstruction such beautiful, bulbous eyes, to
have feelings where we feel estranged—those caged rooms those wretched gates
too gathered to give much rise.
Dear
Mother,
was
it breath was it normal did it matter?
as
casual creatures trying something eternal where we felt undelivered; but lovers
grew plus they reigned while they refused us; was it great was it life did
ghosts speak softly? to receive
harm into arms that laughed while parents are discounting color; to love
anguish to kiss agony while color doesn’t matter; our vain souls where we die
lavender or curdle in miseries; but days are unrest or minds are wresting after
something we can’t locate—such feral behavior such craving guts while a
daughter learns as taught. but this is war we must watch our colors where I
wonder most intensely; they want deal, or they don’t want love, where the
caliber is different with them; so, our pride our wealth our needs; such
disdain for peoples such unhappiness but never an appropriate mirror; as lost
with flame or nervous with life as uncritical misfortune.
I never
understood us, this triad, where reality relies upon closed tunnels; those
unlikely rules this feud in time or asking for essence refusing to follow formulas;
but such sweet serenity or a woman her thrown to dive or die or so dreaded; to
need a feeling to manufacture a feeling while said feeling is too far removed;
as what a mind needs this evidential component while most lie to self too
often; to want forever, to desire bone or marrow, or so confident over an
untenable beginning; where injuries ensue or stars confess, while too embolden
to recollect.
It seems
too late, but wires by truths, where image is more important than breath.
