the
blue moon as opposed to beige so white so gray—to miss time to recalculate fire
such raw sullenness so hectic by misery—the kiss it devastated those marks as screams
while a man reminisces on blues. a fireball a flame a film in me; the gut as it
ran those hazes as they blurred so soft so gentle while dragging out
aggression; to mock a soul to hold God in derision to misunderstand anything
breathing. a cup of blackwater for a bride in green apparel so red in strict
cutting denial. the blood mother shed the father that got ghost or some ghetto
kid in his misprints. those psychiatrists those sociologists while a hunch
might be into its mirror. so fueled in rain such oil in whales so much three
harpoons. the brief as mágoa the tender bruise while a man never met his wife—and
she never met him! so damaged where it comes by consensus; so threatened when
it comes to righteousness. as a man bled a mother cried while father was set to
slam. our holidays in grips our minds in tipsiness or our ships crashing on
pavement. so dear to a man so close to his heart while we renegotiate our
terms. a knee in mahogany a knife in ebony or a porcelain fever as it was meant
for parish. to gravel iron to shore the winds so rich in something most
dismiss. a man bled so cloven asunder where he awoken screaming in darkened
sweat. the filth as I become the battle as I collapse or God’s tears in my liquor.
such a swampy stampede those eyes as they croak such a cut in a man’s
intestines. to adore a dewdrop to rewrite a booklet so digitized as a fool; the
mouth as it yells the heart as it swooshes or the brain in deeper awareness;
those subtle pricks those inkprints while a soul somber in his execution—those pictographs
as a spirit flew such dear communication. by bluegrass roots by folksy grains
while a man is like unleavened wheat. to drink so rough to heal upon a couch a
man was wounded. such dear position such thunder in our skies while I ran to
take the Eucharist. such inexact molten lava. some critical fable. while so
many watch feeling weary, with tales to shock our last pathologist.
