we
were sickness—the souls died—I loved until it was fruitful; so spontaneous, so
spectacular, as eyes see what’s febrile. I lose self, never closer, the years
are filled with dreaminess; as uncaged, flying into traffic, Love seated like
success; so misbehaved, so cordial, such fields for disappearance. from burpees
to dressed to tying up Nike’s; from weights to weight loss to a little muscle;
a bungee man, a leaping machine, at lost-and-found claiming insanities.
swooshing into atmosphere, laughing a little, keep the angel contained;
too metaphysical, what was said—where did it come from? can’t have it both
ways, full time agnostic, fuller times with blessings—to praise in private, to
repudiate in public, the soul develops a splice. out the window, chugging a
little, puffing a cigar. rolling at 50 mph, dirt flaring, “Hit the far lane”;
met a decent soul, never met before, like too wild to keep church.
with
life, loving life, I do giggle, I do see. it’s amazing what the mind ingests.
one
big riddle, one cultural sphinx, I admire the mind of the living. many poles,
many totems, with a race to define inheritance. spacial, running forward,
looking backwards, eyes back on the road.
