love
is mischief or chaos or parttime glory. to have existed in you every whim made
luxury every mood-swing an indulgence. as a soul might fly a spirit might fall
such determining excitement. I was with need, as for existence, sheer
uncertainty gave me life. by panic of dice by nature of chess, I find control
gives false comfort. how have we loved, from Greece to California, from Europe
to Lebanon. so much a parable or lie or essence without boundaries; that
feeling in having nakedness with arms shoving with all bars collapsing. but a
dying happiness but a radiant market patient with mosquitos. a cheetah in winds
a leopard those spots a panther with red eyes. to have adored like a man
sinning while determinants spoke to debris. too much a million women, too much
a dream, in spite of Rome, we die loving our destruction. so dreaded in time so
unique in cries while so far so close running to die at home. some comfort but
a night, such parts aching, while so enlove with a furnace. or candles flicker.
a bishop lit candles. confession is subtle into mathematics.
loving some person
or that person in magic balls in sword’s reflection a caged submission on some
mansion; fire with helium such floating in time with locks vetting our
sincerity. a solemn decision, if but it never escaped, where I look at Love
with Helen in arts. such flame in chainsaws such links to New Orleans, as
criminals at affairs. a mind with execution a high rope with a head where we
know a crossed territory. but essence plus bodily plus face politeness. a sight
for passion a night for screaming such words uttered in frustration. thus, a
deadly addiction to need like pathetic, to ask or die.
