I loosen spirit, a
tribal man, running with waves; —thirsting for clearance, like staring, never
seen it, a bad ass machine.
Love is the
sickest, I’m a featured cry, eating noodles, adding garlic, gazing over
glasses.
the interior is murdered,
acting differently, ‘Normal’ has an issue with me: a hurting boulder, a cold
furnace, a full-grown lemur.
drinking coffee,
listening closer, each man has a war, each woman has mastery; they need to feel,
they play ball, they sit in glory.
the hustle lost
luster, the heathen fell asleep, such angst, more healing, more patience.
could have aborted
me, poppa was in her skull, she never got right.
Love screams at
winds, forcing alignment, so cosmic, like an omen, a ghost, a phantom. I unwind
in anguish, it goes low, sudden fire on a thundercloud.
too much
uneasiness, depth shot, looking, wondering, How has one captured aeipathy?
I push insides. I watch
as something opens. Love made glory, made dice, made a doll.
Love in a
fortress, a fence with wires, I can’t see her.
