such gorgeous
Africans such sweet blood the fire that mud dies. sure mercy an axiom where
Love might passion—the blue moon the rich face while a hankering by ink-woman.
certain confession a deadman rising as cut from gut to mid-brain. by Hispanic
essence by Church to give by anguish so rough in forgiveness. as never a
reality but always fiction as morals deplete. by keeping suns or keepsake
flares if but something to agree with us. a man would soar a door might flame a
fixture might break. such haunting zeal, too close to neighbors, where sight
fell upon European axioms.
everyone isn’t
great some are unstable where resistance carries its hamper; such fragrance in
letters such hills in ethics while preaching is repudiated.
any schematic
except public schematic as uncured or dissonant.
sappy feelings or
trying so hard but contained as friends. it requires force it can’t think it
must ravish by instinct; to mimic fever to look manic while humans are impulsive.
near cedar flies or running into locusts while wild a destination to wield.
by swamic intent
or omic essence if but too unstable to decide forwardness.
I only called for
help when it was unruly while you came to aid me. those watermarks those chairs
spinning those things in cemeteries: a talkative tomb those breezy aches while
a stray poodle keeps barking. a rolling cradle a baby’s rattle or a rattler
asking questions. an unbent goal a waking sky while most are spacing faster;
unstrapped sandals, a pictureless face, such rich, sightless togetherness.
an internal
gallery, a mosaic corpse, or herbs stuffed into a catacomb—to carry your eyes
to die but eschatology so afar but racing closer—listening to a teapot as he
speaks to a kettle while she cries of devastation—our Tibetan agonies our want
to control atmosphere while California is under an earthquake.
by our streets or
by our ravines such canyons into our living-rooms. a tuffet as it screams while
Love is too spent to stand.
