I pet a wolf
inside, a righthand cobra, sure sweet venom. I hunt soil haunted by sour candy,
laughing with a Witness. increased in fury, lines on tables, a bit influenced
by liquor. too resistant too existential while too cynical. gossip by a
building, recital at 3, I shall not make it.
a
few smiles last week, a few minutes with freedom last month, a barrow of fires
this day. trying healing looking pictureless at serious concerns. to will
behavior, solitary rites, while most sense deep audacity. like a marathon to
get free, like a miracle to make it back, once minds have slid off a cliff.
by
packs of wolverines seated in a shack speaking by a submarine. be it sound or
silence, looking drastic, situated against deaths.
if
mental we cringe if physical we suffer if spiritual we wait too long. a damaged
outlook, a poem recooked, an unreachable padlock. racing through woods
associated with losing or a few winning and losing sight. the world is slow
motion, a few radicalized, at perils by inner mirrors.
an
eagle is high. I watch through binoculars. it seems depth becomes freedom. but
it can’t be said, albeit, we think it, but many police the dam. to coach a
feeling, to remain silent, to act in accordance – fire as smothering or flames
as sweltering with wings snapped at mid-exosphere. toppling fast, flipping like
pigeons, crashing brains first. to read his diary, as splattered upon earth,
his spirit reaches out with one last scream.
I
examine disappointments. I exaggerated for purpose. assuredly one would die before
hitting earth. but physic eyes or psychology wits at some adventure while
knowing it ends soon. forgiveness to self, much a privilege, while so much is
on trial.
