I take sail, engage a filthy habit, light a candle.
darkness hovers, it was ever darkness, upon an infant wish. candent humans,
raised in battlefields, listening to intentions—the cold breeze, afore ocean shores,
remorse feels inevitable. I often complain. complaining isn’t good. I do it,
nonetheless. a person is coarse, terse, unapproachable—sirens wailing, an
ambulance outside, a remark, a careful non-reply.
I take sail, engage a pure thought, beauty is bedded
in perception—inner affection, typing into receptors, many visual strata.
I would desire comfort in foreign arms
taking refuge in innocence, or pain.
I would cherish hazel-brown chastity
alike to certain screams, meant opalescent.
a fledgling in essence, deceived by self
chasing images; bold tenderness, felt
imbalance, never satisfied, nor joyed.
I take sail, sparking my life, chiseled into something
metallic—warm refrigerators, oatmeal pudding, mind aching, deposits. if running
to beauty, dead in my eyes, refurbished, with olden wood; the stench of the trail,
the forest in delights, made mutual disgusts—as creatures made lambent, as
pensive souls, upon a wistful horizon, to have died in resurrection—sweeter cornfields,
a jovial cotton time, too much firewater, a morning headache.
I take sail, grounding out sensitivities, made fierce
against wishes, smelling baked biscuits, bacon, coffee; too wild to slow down,
too slow to catch up, many dim lights, aphoristic curses, inverted axioms—opposites
making kindness.
