upon
a thought, afforded a miracle, where none are more thankful. too few pianos or
ghetto kids running through barricades. lawn chairs rose bushes surrounded by
shrubberies. weeping skies to feel culture so alarmed by systematics. each are
charged with pigmentation; each are made unnecessary or absolute; and many are
peeking looking for eschatology.
by conversation upon a sugar apple
kneeling lower, laughing harder, such basecoat for miseries. it seems different
for each person. where one sees resistance, another sees human proclivities.
perspective is put into perspective, existence becomes adjustments, where we
ask, “Exactly, other than equal opportunities, what are we searching out?” those
roaring hours those salmonberry tonics if but to understand what winning looks
like. (a far way home, melancholy by proximity, to fathom what she sacrificed.)
we play pottery games or ceramic
pains so alert it becomes too much consciousness. to compose a sonnet to adore
a friend or to sit in silence sanctioned by surrendering. upon wildweeds or
sable eyes or crossed over a portico screaming. too much imagery too much life,
while I remember, as a sign, we also need dignity, more persistence, even fuller
participation. it brings much to mind, looking at activities, where most are
redeeming sugarberries. a trope for innocence, in anti-innocence, while
innocence becomes a requirement — such grapes or poison just to know it was
possible — at clear demand, riding a stallion as it pauses for a mare.
some are segregationists, with clear
argumentation, others are integrationists, where America seems concerned. many
classes many pearls such emotion to irrigate dissatisfaction. we unfasten
screws we reglue posters as we negotiate with bolts. if to see through if to
touch that button if to provoke one palm. as taking solace in perfection,
realizing perfection is struggling, as to feel King Jr., to unstress gates, to
unchain Liberty.
