we fret over subsistence if life is gentle if life is harsh. sandy instruments beautiful skies a person a heart flutters for; miracle balance unearthed for passion palms raging at soil. an apricot against heat a peach for sweetness a bit sticky. I shower at seconds a bit steeped in prayer, as a theologian, I rebaptize myself. an unction for pain a friend in silence while I violated an unspoken contract. a mother is watching so huge her heart while yogis are running society. our ancient Indians our ancient literature, so removed from the carcass. swimming into excellence or beat passed niceties, for life kept like torches or frames such afflicted regions.
I
was sitting near a palm tree. I saw dust swirling. I stared into a trance. some
say a man is crazy. some like a crazy woman. no matter life, life matters!
quiet undercurrents, something taboo, a glint in her eyes. so simple such
goodness while hurt for morals. trying to flit trying to scud where miracles
seem bias. or a gifted friend a long life into skies flipping in parachutes. a
bit impossible but it wasn’t opened while rushing into earth. to need more of
good love to become a precious vessel to live like love is illegal. filled with
power assorted by feelings consumed with heaviness.
so cussed out. so
much refusing the part. too bad for heaven. a hectic alphabet, predetermined
contracts, such Latin American literature. slipping into darkness, a hidden
lamp, they abuse most of us. the same I wish to be, or love, to join. so
ironic, such masks, where principles pass away. I made silence indeed for
silence or survival. most haven’t seen it, something divorced from itself,
where wits separate losses. such decent souls such predicaments, such condition.
pride as ideals or ideologies or ideograms. so idyllic until it hurts.
while life might give or take. most are reliving a carnival. like pantomimes or
statues or harlequins. a guzzler at times, or a silent absorption, while I live
with a mini-universe. absurdity seems evident. sex seems like an in-between station.
but all-consuming warmth seems like Sufism. I try more, while absorbing
cadence, at points a breathing mannequin. some philosophy or a bit of
psychology or a bit of Southern pride. it matters so much a touch in a storm
where most are underdeveloped. it takes appreciation to give appreciation while
evilness just takes. last it rain, I stood face to skies, it was you rolled
into a destination.
I often ask
questions inside, wondering about true perfection – this love some share. it
just keeps rolling, through pain, graphs or pictographs. such unvetted,
re-vetted, keep succeeding, uncondemning love. to triumph as in cinemas. to
re-die as in resurrection. so completely undifferentiated.
