the
corpse becomes futility. such to be or such to exist while feathers get heavy.
I see minerals or solvents or ungracious black diamonds. I see fretting over
sauces where souls are damaged. it senses its pain. it senses its loss. but it
can’t fathom why it lost. we eat peaches made of glass. we seal sky-steel or we
seem flexible to give as desired. but something turns cosmos it dies while
falling into resurrection where it awakens rustling for its last memory. you birthed
like fire, right into arms, pleading through silence: that dark universe those
kind intonations while destined for California distressors. the island of
mutiny those cats purring or larger ghosts forming into hell hounds. but
something seems significant. where silence desires kindness. while demons are
enticed through behaviors. such Japanese beauty. such European stature. or such
African heritage. it becomes difficult, while I utter about love, to realize it
means so much more. the allure of sharks the fragrance of Eternity or
something we create that proves unfulfilling. we look at birth rites. we
classify humans. or we adhere to something unexplained. it’s quite normal. we
need stability. where something jagged seems to offer structure. we usually
dismiss chaos, unless we see profit, while many people are never chastised for
their treachery. but I sense amazing volume or deeper value so assertive but allusive.
to allude more than confront, to ask instead of demanding, while I look forward
to a breakthrough. such jigsaw keys or detriments by passivity where I have
seen so much, I wish to buffer the impact. it will be an undoing or an undone
relationality, while reaching or revving harshly. saying it concerning love is
a deep task where is seems more important to suggest a cleansing. those jaguar
binoculars so set to the task while ignoring tender interior. to erase its
knowledge-base in order to placate while the equator is without seasons. such
raw understanding to stand for something where anything doesn’t suffice. (an
inner wilderness a jungle an amazon!) by rosary beads to seek clarity or
trenchant concentration or meditative by Aum:
to undie or revamp or to ask plainly
concerning those realities we treasure. I mix feelings I remove crumbs but the
psyche has debris. I see you in time as racing up Invisibility or sitting in
posture arranged to dine on understanding. but it might be money or riches or
fame, the chasing soul! maybe some things are passé as meant for other people
where you have become hardened. maybe nothing really matters, aside for the
nuclei, while waiting for others to pass the fortune over. (I’m uncertain.) our
dear emotions, our zeitgeist emotions while influenced so stereotypically. but I
fathom more. I leave it to determination. while sensing the longer roads, the
narrow gates, the long or intense pressures. but it serves its purpose, while
perfection is adored, where one has never harmed a flea. this table vase those
chairs or those computers those hallways those desks while a room is filled
with cubicles. to defuse self or to ask for nothing while earning those things I
chase. it is entertaining for now. it is wisdom for now. it becomes action
those years. our Eiffel Tower, as it leans into psyches, where we conjure it up
in visuals. those Beijing eyes those longer limbs or a time with deciphering
metals. maybe tender wishes along a spectrum where it was majesty to stay away.
but what would one give, aside for literature, or living actualities? those
Alcatraz positions, hovered like refuge, in some self-determined cage. while it
must be reprobate. for it doesn’t listen. where if it doesn’t obey, we deny our
obligation. those dolphins are on high those harmonicas are made of intuition
while a group of saffron flowers strike an emotion. to live so full needing
release while so much is made significant. our fulvous roses our amaranth
hearts if but a rational breastplate. but I harvest so much to exist in
quietude or to move a thought or two. such sea lion artifacts. such bones the
color of pride. while we fiddle a kantele. such wild water, or pensive sounds,
where pain becomes its instrument. but I come for closure, feeding a flamingo,
or watching the day-hawk-mind-cave.
