the pools stir those leaves creak the soil
is chains or restrictions or chaos. others must be me or I am them into
detention’s eyes. curfew for adults or Coronavirus for allegiance where music
is failing its commission. budding softly such gusts into windows or mythic
magic becoming excellence. by black rivers our curdling intestines at chestnut
wilderness: the fox giggling those sneaky snakes or the gifts of our paradox.
so distressed these days it feels so familiar where wild monsters gnaw our
flesh. such media those souls so alive while adrenaline is passion. intonation
or subtle cues while the canine is responding to the master. an old motif an
endless maze where millions are a bit indifferent: neither way, nothing there,
as back to such intimate depression. our lost angers our forfeited sheep while
Armageddon wouldn’t change next year’s events. for it cycles. life is heaviness.
the violins are churning clouds. by caprice while frustrated where officers
have such a war to vacuum. our first perception those quick judgments or latent
suppositions. those worries those concerns while most people argue more than
listen. we have beliefs. they determine behavior. while we assert — “Not
everyone is guilty.” such feelings absconding with pains or experience or
terrors. such bold protests or movement marches where millions still portrait
“Solidarity.” our mandolins into atmospheres our neo-privileges where people
are convinced the scrolls are authentic. such elasticity or bendable plastic
while one person can’t rid us of our faith nor pride. it was well with reality
to kneel into insanity but we rise into relationality. those old fables. these
hectic standards. while most are so held back by disappointment. in myriad
rooms we listen to Cornel West made more concerned than before. such power is
voices, such children concerned while believing in guardians. by thimble we
presume or trails to kingdoms while the poet is restricted. the veranda is now
the park. the patio is now the beach. people are faced with their thoughts.
cupboards are sullenness. credenzas are memories. or graves seem closer!
