sawing wood, on a farmstead, naked in
spirit, clothed as carnal. I look closer. I see buriers. I see more pain. much
adventure, a mantis instructor, an ocean meant for seasickness. so causeless,
so focused, so nauseated. a woman at play, so crucial to sorrow, so much
happiness laughing—at angst, orison, waves ebbing; a last smile, until healed
smile, backed into memories. I walk northbound, humming a hymn, with penchants
to receive. at first glance—it was kinship, maybe not love, just curiosity.
such cold creatures, alphabetical angers, our pensive, prideful phobias. I
retreat. I never knew much trust. I see something—we use each other by
capacity. we sense each other, so it never matters. it’s not eternal, in eyes
hurting themselves, if caught, we die wishing on trefoils. a bathhouse spirit,
a tepee body, losing something essential. similar afflictions, driven lately,
more power to a soul begging peace. so mental, so delicate, too much to hold
graces. Tibetan souled. Asian chi. Tao freedom. so bothered now, so into
feelings again, I must be honest, I don’t fling it.
an overdose on oxygen, wheat
crackers, wine, unbelievable atmosphere.
don’t deserve what’s been given.
don’t need what comes for hurting.
many years ago, over timetables,
under a crooked umbrella—those first looks, like so casual, to imagine what
gives life. hardwood resistance, sakata plagues, fused like losing. to call it
love, like you never knew love, love looks differently.
knucklebone pictures. driven lately.
going through a phase lately.
if I went raven mad, would you bring
me back? if unclear, pacing mirrors, would you point out my image?
it was unthoughtful, not intentional,
while gold rarely mingles with bronze.
