so
attached to it so cold in it while melting. like pottery or ceramics to have
built his intuition. so metaphysic so deserted so desolate; pure mimicry purer
ambivalence, while warring against hegemony. an existential society against
social constructs as critical of human behavior; the wild rose such painted
petals or perception becoming denial. to have surfaced to have disappeared
while hollow intestines some ageless tree.
I think
of one as daily in action such probing – it seems what love looks like; but
either truth or denial, pain or mis-gripping, I don’t have a place in our
combination.
some
space inside a memory while much was unplayful. some scream as it manifests
while even evidence is risky.
I know
a person, she chances relation, as in something educational. we see differences
we know for sugarberries, but time is knit into our tracksuits.
I walked
inside. I opened a cedarchest. there was a deceased moth. I caressed it. I saw
a butterfly. it came back to life. something to this effect, something to this
life, something to poison-grapes.
unfasten
conduits or restitch underground harmony, while it’s been quiet lately. this is
a sign. where misery is prowling, while many felt existential.
have you renewed indifference, or
has such become vague, in some valley tiptoeing? but keepsake depth, or
challenge, to imagine getting into the meat of a man’s brains; some masked
weaver, so mis-fathomed, as an ingredient is science. (we get it wrong. we sing
at the wrong pitch. science doesn’t denote anti-spirit. we conjured this, even
rightly, considering secular evidence—they keep it silent, they manufacture
intensity, but it’s not detached from its mystery.)
upon woodfire or a
shelf with basecoat into a land I’m gunning through.
