indeliberate
sanity the walk is explosive I look to find you.
I hurt in private,
a hard time confessing, esp. when no one is fussing.
the tender angst,
the reckless moon, amazed at how we love.
sky calligraphy,
inside gambling, the corner poolhall; just heard about the loss, I sent my
condolence, so little means so much.
if fitted wrongly,
at a blue sun, rising, falling, too damn tired; the roads are unfelt, the chitzsu
is sporadic, like pleading is rough: what is prayer? —we never ask—we never
define it.
chides and Cheetos,
roaming upstairs, much remains inaudible.
so much poking, I begin
to think, is it for a reason—something uncovered, intimate, a need in opposite
coins?
I lay in
stillness, at times one visits, we disappear into our dreams. the wealth in
mind-power, better, the girth of heart-fire, seated on Concentration’s hearth.
like coming home, I’ll be there soon, doing wrong, faced with a mishap.
just re-buried animosity.
just found an inner screen, a scene, theater is too much to see.
asking for
dexterity, not mere handiness, more alive in self.
