we
usher our doubts as invisible creatures so threaded into furniture seams; the
greatest at adversity while he said thunder if but many could take his rain;
dropping into bass or laughing over clarinets as to pause where life is most vivid. I must feel in order to fly where fleeing
was forced. sure immortal walls or
effulgent pianos as to sit, die a little, while fretting delights—such cobblestone
skies or semi-majestic daughters or such faux pas a miracle is unbelievable. by
pluvial droplets while myriads wept insomuch as suffering is motif…so married to
contention so divorced from contagion while thought becomes its crucible.
upon
anger while so certain where on occasion we might need lenience or more mercy
or inalienable rights or something dependent.
it’s a gray morning where one is
detached but only for survival. a soft mandolin such dear meraki or metanoia or
mire or mud or hills or lights if but to re-jog an acquired affliction.
aside a kniphofia or an iris flower
listening to mental trombones—those fevers as gutting self, or days left to
renegotiate—while mirrors only mimic semblance. or too hasty by withering
creeks where a mirror might hit a nerve.
but too much to heal too
little to apologize where men must
die more. such sarcasm so sardonic as
laughing in the deepest agony. by heaving
stomachs by cardio-vascular-systems or convictions so steep the boulder just
whistles; for deaths are warranted where we never such a person in accordance
to what we may retrieve.
