a Lebanon woman, a man with wisdom, a soul worshiping Rumi. those ways are different, Canaanite
sexuality, Hittite pride. so much a dreamer, too much a wilderness, I saw a Phoenician
by the bar. like too loud, too low, something needs to glisten; an interior
prudence, a spirit with radiance, a Sufi’s grenade. too much to walk away too
much a pathway, too many diamonds in the slums. many watching many needs clarity
many knew his name. known for trillion-dollar tendencies, baby too much, a
dream becomes a vision.
a hard two-toned
beauty a man loses his Syria his Iran. cities become Iraq many on laxatives,
many vomit if to see it. immigrants touching millions, officials on prowl, many
neighbors taking pictures. he had a bag, it was leaking odors, many watched
like hyenas. he traveled to NY he was mixing elements, like veins and marrow.
some piece of me, some crazy essence, misses meshing in conversation. the rain
makes it wet the sink is clogged the door is busy. kept yelling. seeing too
many. a helicopter at every angle. a filled trunk. one sees stars, a slug if
too resistant.
huge eyes material
souls immaterial/fated attraction.
