organic whiskers,
longer/powerful limbs, a man dies trying harder; so coy, so filthy, so
exclusive, as an inclusive secret. different ideas, one child, wild like
passion; so crucified, so filled, made lonely, too much mastery.
mind economy, love
politics, I just need to play buffoon.
maybe a commodity,
maybe a life-long friend, maybe us through Desert Strom.
owner production,
a new lease, leather deep black boots. trench everything, so damn gorgeous,
mean enough to pass by—in pain, another fits the image, has the riches, makes
violin yoga;
so, fire is
edible, rain is acidic niceness, much sorrow builds a woman.
so rough a claim,
as it looks harder, if but to be one we all desire.
abused property,
needing to feel owned, if but a trillion-dollar mask; so much a riff, diligent
to try harder, accursed in pajamas.
I saw her. I was nonchalant,
like ninety days later, I confessed my obsession. never it happens, it’s a
rushing game, it’s a forgotten grave.
so artistic, so
aesthetic, a real ribbon, many wheels, in wrangling, wild, made a calm
insistence.
