we went fishing we
had a net we caught nothing. the guardian came, she was liquid on crack, we
giggled but it hurt. the yoke of vengeance those battles in grounds to rub or
eat soil. a clump of grass a clump of impatience so sweet to deliver a friend. reading
Phillipe or paying by attention so attentive to a cheating flag. so much sponge
so little yogurt while Love slammed a cocktail. it meant so much or it meant
nothing the way we bounce through lovers. so territorial so tragic while we can’t
defeat it. it terrorizes it hits intestines a man vomiting his Life! too few
resisters but so much resistance while adequacies are independent of strangers.
so much patience so much pressure seated on an old ottoman. the settee bled the
mother fell it was pain for three generations. so much powder a keg in a grind
while father was moving cartilage. the action of the wolve the violence of the
elephant, indeed, we must think! a man left her. I rebuilt her. the man was
losing senses! so professional, even in love, while losing Love. I lied so much
it felt normal before the convergence. it was pain to see you. you looked
terrific. I thought back to how I lost. a field of angels we play tag where I rush
to be it. such figurative powers such cartons, it’s right in front of you. the
laughs of the fractures, the tales of the winners, while so undercut by raw,
unadulterated information. it’s a room. we call it by a bed. but actually, it’s
an ocean—the vast calamities the friendly lies, the cadence while looking
around. so bled-out, at the mortuary, while walking like David. so much fun a wife
might scream while to deny a husband physicality. early winter or late fall or impending
summer—such spring-shine, such isolation, while I ponder the bipolar—those prisons
those chains if but running through fire. such a problem with blacks such rage
with democrats where a black man out-gaged her intelligence. the root screaming
the denial laughing while she hates my guts!
