I
could love or provide insomuch as to determine—those deep chuckles those
illness eyes such grace such granddaughter pride; to have strings lingering in
chimes so graphic such blueprints to aesthetic the edifice. if death, it must
be sweet. if life, it must be its catechism. our ecclesial ghettos, our Protestant
suburbs, our genesis nightmares; to drift in time to clutch bass-winds at
tragedies or pleasures while it all becomes its whispers. something like a
grimace upon something needing its perfection while lesbian souls are catching
survival. the pain of a lie. the agony of decades. the peace in silent malaise.
those gathered spirits. or needs to fit into something structured. or dynamite
skies. those fields afire. the bricks protesting. the towers watching or
weaving or wrangling. if so sharp it aches, to cherish or panic, where trust is
too vital. the body changes. chemistry is thwarted. it becomes its tolerance.
our vacant assessments. our vacant presence. while knowing triggers anger. to
laugh or jest or jibe. or to be strong an inner city. where haven houses are
crumbling. such recrimination. such memorization. or agonizing introspection.
if but a need so intense it grieves while love gives that peg. to aid in
creation, even where it hurts, with little to accusation or dire guilt. while
it seems simple where some knew, wherefore, we’re playing catchup.