the soil is
California, those dreams keep weeping, angels are at chorus; fuchsia echoes,
offensive prettiness, paramystical scars; assorted screams, back brains altar,
horns filled with flesh; topaz eyes, keep laughing, surrender, or perish.
needing
controversy, cursed to find it, adrenaline into sky veins; empyreal delight,
turquoise nameless, so struck by jeans, contour, what I wish to taste; pure
fury, dialogue so mad, as anything I do as sold; a willing palm, to need more
bags, so close to arriving.
ghostly temblors,
trying to escape, pulled back by desire; felt aloof, so distant, she needed
that feeling; southern soulprints, quilted orgasms, one heaving climax.
sculptress of
dreams, sky soil, earth berries, bled of existence; the flame in water,
baptized thrice, chunking up apparitions.
some majestic
fire, a halo on its dust, such dusk in arising; life as one house, haunted it
may be, our terror in universes.
trying to outsoar
doubts. many years of contradiction. to realize, it can’t be as imagined—we don’t
have capacities.
soil churning—bats
haywire—a vampire just entered with wings.
