I
love to see us or some version where tremors are warm. the battle in the demon,
those vines, as aloof to their monster. a catacomb for Jesus a fever for ghosts
so moist so indebted such the aesthetic life-giver. to taste sweat to die
goodness so affected by affliction. those wild oceans those wilder women while
a man auctioned anxiety. sweet resurrection or mother’s ambition to seize a
life in veiled portraits. those telescopes those telepathies as traveled
lovers. so realized so unstable too many miracles—as a dead creature walking
with tyranny those tales we aborted. by ravished angst such sexual religiosity
while so nervous to lose so eager to perform. I love to see us or some version
while ecstasy is a shadow. our revving distrusts our warring sky-frames at
directions but reneging. a living minion if but to mention where rites seem
unimportant. as electricity, so fragrant into a socket, where grasshoppers
rushed forward to reign. such raging drips such elegant gyration to sit looking
like queens. our town fire, our mental chains, so allergic to what imbues us.
so country those nights so city in rebellion so churchlike come Sunday morning.
to be like friends so eternal, plus, a day, while I was best man. to watch my
dreams or to hear halos while you looked tremendous. to care much more to hear
a yelp while low plucking designs into my carpet.
