I’d
like to slow it in tempo, a mellow mulatto, a soul from down south. trembling
dreamlike, open in soul, sitting in converse with chills; a fevered pain, a
demon in laws, so black, so white, so colored. I was at her aura, I heard a
voice, I was deeper at terrors; shaking, listening for essence, floating
through sounds. I felt alone. I turned another channel. I heard the neighbors.
tears at trails, tracks at veins, or sober longing like a damn person. just to
imagine, it gets shaky, to imagine means to ignore what’s conjured. a man makes
his life, a woman is tugged by life, made alike, made differently, I just know,
I need chemistry.
at a chapel, speaking with a Bishop,
had to admit it, I’m a Protestant.
girl! it’s been devilish, aching in
time, laughing at myself.
I haven’t a clue. Love might be
crazy. her breath might be different.
she might bring anguish, love
harder, like one we drool over; some sickness in me, some island mid-city, like
pleading for mercy: eyes filled with water, biting into my neck, screaming, "Bloody climax!"
a whisper is tender, or frightening,
many act like deduction has died.
the nexus was bent. I went to Power.
it was days in limbo.
days are upon us, it’s never, but it is,
as last it could be—so live harder.
I buried a hatchet. I was attacked. as
goodness suffers its goodness.
Love is too much, designed for clashing
souls, as a man looks with excitement.
by the foot-falls of her anklet, by the
aglet of her strings, by pure invisibility—she redeems hope, restructures
sights, cleaves to fire.
