Saturday, August 22, 2020

Cold Fire

 

moods shift quite often as creatures minded or connected or some sweet distraction. by aromatic resin or softer a beige scent while loving others becomes its fraction. a beating arc a subtle voltage or chains dating to our ancestors. so inclined while age creeps where we have only so much afforded this journey. such bottom lessens or seas so still our ship isn’t moving. by essence or disposition as to adore or love if such differences exist. monsters are airborne or avatars are nearby such gnawing at gnats or doorposts. I sing to elegance or unsung to his elements where science becomes an imposition. we can’t in direction so masked for company while one must be extraordinary to contest. our souls such weariness such touch while void of matter. we give it to literature or something artistic, his life in three events! too many glimpses but never an element traveling through episodes. such predators or cousins while gators roam our thrumming hearts. so uncaged but so wild, it’s amazing how love heals or tames! you might disown self or kill meaning with over 48 volumes of lipstick. but life is this passage, so painted in privileges, where I rest in such resistance. by travesty of a clown. by futility of a hermit. or secrets prone in a monk’s insistence. or you may watch so taken by prosody or feelings or aesthetics. where we know our minds so distressed by our flesh while one is for sin while another is for praise. or religiosity is sickening it hurts too much where rationality/balance hasn’t kicked in. we never know or we realize, as best we see something is pointing at participation. those signposts are roadmaps they enliven something quite bereft of a definite aura. a palm of tadpoles a fretting essence or cold fire.

The Sentiment

  The Sentiment    It tends to matter—each pursuing holy armor. It leans into a desire to feel pure, clean, sacred and such. I never underst...