it feels like
gospel or southern pain while mellow with misery. I roam halls I trespass
funerals I go to church – looking for a friend a diehard passion even yoga on methamphetamine.
to erupt in irony to whisper over melodies or to create rapping(s). love is so
close. I hear her assertion. so much a person over a tender mic. I buff a tabletop
I place mats I cook salmon. something light something cruel as it demands
genuine emotion; the bikes are locked a skateboard is nailed those walls are
recording. so on your side so much proving reliable so dear to our interior. a
castle for a queen a dungeon for meditation to explode, to erupt, to break in
tears. a kind hand a standing in place a creative piece of memoir. I chase a
kite I roam foreign neighborhoods I put self in jeopardy. sweet nectar like no
other, I begin to realize why humans get married. breath in its yawning teeth
in necks bodies headed to a weekend getaway. our museums our cries our silent
gestures. next to an ottoman a room in beige lining, to kneel down, pass over a
strawberry, a room filled by diamonds – the curse of its confession, those eyes
remiss to die, as rejuvenated, once so tired.
I might omit a
significant point – those prayers in dens, those lions at your side.
I chase ribbons. I
look but never gawk. at moments, it becomes insufferable.
a candle flickers
a wick is showing-out we move it away from curtains. the pool of romance the
London in arcs like rising into a miracle. a little Patti La Belle or fairer
into chance while so much earlier is better. northern crime or northern labor
so much we have come through.
