…but
dear Elijah those last seconds so cursed so delivered—a cut in mesquite a
blacksmith’s honor while this becomes the great promise: horsehair whips knotted
guts so clumped over spurting our blood…. such buttercream skin sun tender avalanches
or porcelain afraid to walk home. by toothpaste posters along a footpath so
frail so perfect so bashed. upon a dovetail so many metaphors just to assert
love; those gravel eyes those hard chins those heroine outlines… so bathed so beautiful
so
knee-deep in game. to hear a doorknob to look yonder upon something too damn
uncanny. those feelings as rushed so raw a baby come midday. (it escapes us
thus it eludes reason while we perish so swiftly; a mere potbelly-man or her
dear comfort, indeed, such terror to patrol those caves: dungeons with demons,
atlas axes, or marshweed mire plus manure.) if but to realize deep love to know
such sacrifice or to understand those radical exchanges—as a man seeing his rights
as to fathom a woman where it couldn’t be so revealing: to gut his mind, so
seemingly benign, while
repercussions
are malignant to emotion: such an unlocked seatbelt as Camus clashes or rougher
pavements gave no mercy! our minds our people such rickety reality; such suffusion
or Asians watching while a mestiza composes a letter to such in a
scream: our passions, Love, our dearer insanity, while politics are so
meaningful to Chicanos. such art wars such lone angels while I pause at a track,
kick a rock, or flash to a second where thoughts were immature: something raw
something riveting, where a child can’t hear his future! so sour this moment
such realism in those rooms while if one more damn office!
