love, as
universal, should be capitalized, but a spirit—throwing grains, a gristmill a
bone like arteries on a ship—to give words to die those parts if confidence to
touch like losing. a winning sin, an armchair scholar, at a series of hands-on
remedies. so cuffed in breath, inhaling deeply, I was alive before I was born.
an incarnate soul, a transmigrated sinner, like beauty to hear, “Go back!”
sweet perfume, an odor like an aphrodisiac, a scar on his healing. bring me
you, suspend every doubt, take another shot. bold with delivery like caged to
exist, like desperate to hold tides—such raining water, so salty, the seas are
in part my sanity. a ghost in a chair, no one believes that, until upon an
attic screaming. dear Music, like human diamonds, it’s so damn dark.
I left myself, I ate
a cave, I was spirit in transition. I touched like moving violence, it was
hellish in a war-dog. too many cities, one problem, made into a cynic. can’t
listen no more, it sounds absurd, while I have one last wish.
let wheels spin
let heaven fall, but please don’t fail. grout is tasty, mortar on our roof,
patience is like losing. so, at her essence, or moving backwards, like stagnant
7 years.
in a word in a box
bouncing to meet a ruby.
so deserted in a
valley it’s easy to adore you. too much dislocation too much disaster, too much
discharging.
to arrive one last
beginning. sent for redeeming, a song in hips, thighs, face and brow.
