a slight overcast, in
weather, on brains, on temperament; a little tired, washing thoughts, rinsing
presumptions. the home is its layers, sweetgrass and soil or seas and sands.
caves near cities, traveling sewer lines, reaching pirates never mentioned.
coming closer has been its tugging, a sincere thought, building an insincere liaison.
life, its activities, they seem dependent—on rites, witnessing, desire; nothing’s
safe and sure, most, need cement, security, where others need sexual healing.
made neat, kneading perception, knotted, slumping to knees; as assertive souls,
reasoning out properties, trying a hand at alchemy: transformative maxims,
close knit insistence, rethreaded understanding. with life in session, transference
with time, would to mention intimacy, accuracy, humans allowed to feel
imperfect. the mountain at its end. cages unlocked. emptiness kept to self,
close, made personal. walnuts roasting—over open flame, gentility made delicate—those
eyes made fluid. a light overcast, portraits hanging midair, dice shaking,
rolling, landing on mystery—the sound of trumpets, more triumph for souls,
celebration made easy. maybe seraphic eyes, or auras shaded gray, to imagine
what one is inside—those charms, titillations, hankerings; to know what excites
a friend, to feel it writhing internally, the mind becoming skylights. surety
in prestige, pristine winds, winnowing to come near.
