years
given to darkness as living in Alaska neat ice at our furnace. so bizarre or so
slanted until water turns beige.
tender
Beijing eyes or soft agonizing helium sure-welted-flesh.
ideas
are molten like souls in hell such rendering for false repentance.
fingertips
filled with hyssop or palms sticky from sap where two strike a campfire. such
difficult tents, maybe a cheaper brand, it reminds of our categorized philosophies,
where a skeptic is better than a cynic, or deontology seems more apt than utilitarianism,
or epistemology indicts our core knowledge.
many
have no place for that!
I was agile in adolescence. I once
palmed a snowflake. they were falling everywhere. the gentility of the child,
or nature’s fertility, our passé orientation. to drift at times, with little to
extract from, while many seemed absorbed in thought. I remember watching, like
a squirrel at a picnic, those gracile limbs. but never to approach, it seemed
forbidden, in such reprobate surroundings. or to look beyond to build barriers
with weal, wetness of sores, and wrangling among us. but kenisic gesticulation,
by a treasured kiss, with too much passing to lock a moment. such depleted joy
or a second changing, so serious so much captivity. our exiled hearts our
flutes our mini-cars. jumping just because or seeping into wishes with embarrassment
at our foreground. polyester shoes, wool shirts, handed down for three
generations. our superficial kindness, where essence isn’t important, while
strange things took place in that corner-house. but much danger to having much,
hungry souls become cold, or cruel, or captured by deep incompleteness.
we
tailor our dreams, chopping chunks out, because they look unwelcoming. we seem
to complain a lot, in every circle, it comes naturally. we never think about it,
nor listen closer, it just passes that way. such minor handicaps in screams
becoming havens like hounds on the mansion.
life is its imagination
some cuisine something cooked but still raw; so much to give or exhaust or
replenish. in part, we remain with appreciation, our ghostly transitions, our
aches in gold our trails through sands.
