an
aurora spine an opera back or shorn shoulders; a kleptic physique such praised
hips so statuesque. but pain oozes through eloquence those sounds we undertake;
sure disasters or present elegance so much a vexation. to have one embedded in
shivers or embittered enough to love; by shadow-masks unimagined toes or
reimagined breasts such nape such length such anger—to chime in deserts to
caress by throat as lives, it isn’t science! so many dragonflies such a
leviathan nature or a sword guarding those gates. it takes life by sheer
animosity so depressed while souls scream; by marrow in veins where she
appeared with fury, an inward cello, a mental tone, a mic our sages! to need
expression as touching wilderness a man to his ink—those rites to passage those
fields with sugarcane as we lose time by berries. into a bitter horizon to rethink your arts
so congested with existence. so many clouds or storms or guilt as it
accompanies passion; as drawn by reach activated by need where reality is
unstable; such drunken absence where it meant infinity our indigo remains; our
ghosts our pottery wheel by pictures so near invisibility. as unseasonable
creatures so livid by creative habits, either hard work, divinity, or both!
those habits in you such reckless anguish where life is so great a machine; to
lose essence in every gift while needing one to feel as goddess. such gnawing
such gnashing such metallic mistakes; our metal minds our dear gift for
survival where it often gets heavy. by a need if but reprieve if but romance;
as most give with delight or receive with joy while some are regurgitating adolescence.
but a slave of her chest, or a master of her whims, while if we truly
understood humans, we might feel ashamed!
