I welcome myself into myself a
shadow knitting itself. the flame as in rain sure to die this round. a beat for
roses a drum for souls while adoring you might undo me. I ran in stillness I presumed
in calmness I undressed in showers. soaked. dripping. clothes screaming a shot
in a glass—those beige begonias those bled gallicas while a jamesia is a scar. I
brought liquor I brought self I was aware it would be silence. it becomes
subtle or overt such islands gunning home. to feel selected to be accepted,
even prided for excellence.
refueled a bit regauged a tender tomorrow.
touched it hurts where loving is a miracle. so temporary as one indebted while
we might ask for eternity; if at intensity, if eyes locked in temptation, where
becoming us takes priority.
richer souls rolling rivers at
rakes humble over loses. fingers in dirt or nostrils and dust so much sheared
grass.
I watch dancing I see sullen
salaciousness I wonder how often we must be seduced.
a wall unbreakable a ceiling blown
back, a tree with one piece of fruit.
a miracle coming much glory in a
chair, while knowing you has been interesting. atop a table, tearing a mat,
polishing jam stains.
a young soul is watching, those
days back when, a vase was shattered. reborn re-evolved rewired; a delicate
kettle, a cup of fine arts, if to remember it’ll never be envisioned.
