I try
harder, it’s always trying harder, enough but never enough—the machine the
lover the mentor—so patient as desired while seeing repeats—those long ranges
this fierce soul I hit traffic laughing a little—the maniacal man the mad
delirious fool while calm enough to outwit a feeling.
stages as centerpieces sure baffled
while the cobra won.
so
overtaken as he hit Sunset the rounds rung out. to serenade a man, to stare through
glass, I’ll remain indebted! I met Love, Love was pregnant, Love was fire—the debt
of the kingdom the fury of the lamb as one remembers those flipping tables. a
coin as ownership a woman as a harlot while Rehab was written into the Book of
Life.
so irrigated such comfort the phone
rang: too callous to respond too numb to feel where it attacks raging or racing
in his spirit. but Love was fly an art-piece while memories arose indicative of
responses. the small boy the adolescent monster as he sat in stillness. so
provoked so despised while doing his childhood.
writing
was waterfalls. learning was livid. angels felt affluent! (to look as one dies
to witness an entire life while tears feel unworthy—the dear cut, those veins
so vivid, while most have tasted travesty. our folks our peoples where others
can’t quite fathom—the lakes the impurities those hospitals!) where was it when
days upchucked, it was making love!
so crooked in dynasties, while we must ask, “Have we prescribed habits, or morals, or is it left to autonomy? we run a delicate risk, we must think harder, for it’s never so clear.
