banished
from the grave so lost in the fields a man intimates with sidewalks; so shoved
by silence an ugly mug such raw deterioration. thrown into manure bathing in
mud so rinsed but it lingers. to look at Love torn lies our waves a flame to
his gut—the mistake of the clown so forced to smile while tipsy or damn near
passing life! a root in me such soul in me a bit grateful it couldn’t die! pure
sociality so relinquished or running while baptism called; to hit church a
small tornado to study every damn line! so accursed or such starkness where
they debate a man’s sanity: for he disagreed, he must be demented, for ours has
never committed one infraction. sore-minded-poverty while excellent at
undressing where a woman in parts hates my guts; we never heard it, it was
never evident, it was to remain an interior ghost! so close it hurts such wrongness bleeding while I utter, “I love you.” the man at his cup the bulwark feeling lazy or as Job a man must lose to feel like wholeness. too much for weaker souls too real for neediness while I need more than the average gut! so lost in you as it died in you while I now tolerate you! as a curse or a village where no one exercises courtesies. indeed, a man is questions, the fire is liquid, where no one understands a woman. such a claim, to have heard her life where it seems so static but it sees parachutes; a deep secret a need for excellence while most essences are concerned with the physical arête: so delicate such makeup such attraction. the war is evident but we can’t let go as needing complete havens!
I bounce into traffic, I light a
cigar, I travel fifty miles; I hear my brains I lose a minute it’s something to
the adventure. I see a table, I slam a shot, I slap hands. the berets are tipsy
the Vanguard is bleeding we dare not discuss the Great Lose! such coping
machines such emotional computers while some are too gone to get back. indeed,
a phone those texts, a man must to laugh it off. I jump into self, I explain
the mechanics, I disappear adrift
back in traffic. the corners are
occupied. the liquor is airborne. I see men posted too close to dying. we gave
up or it hurts too much there’s a church nearby. I stop on Crenshaw. I deplore
a prayer. I rehearse messages with a preacher. so gone at it, so holy into it,
while a woman plagues on multiple levels. such power or prowess or pressure. to
hate a man while he hates a situation where a woman will nudge certain replies!
