getting
closer, made difficult, devoid of easiness, in spite of physicality: the agony
of bliss, beauty as it soars, climactic exercises.
hold
your heart out, remove the spear, pass it to a promising savior.
could
you love my heart, structured around a fiat, struggling in an artery?
some
fugue, some skyward anxiety, so silent, perceptive, an angel’s demon.
getting
closer, for what reason, if not to give beyond measure; if to receive love, if
to touch earth, would not life seem apparent?
getting
relaxed, holding hands, reciting similes; pure truth, gothic angelity, another
feeling unbearable; made sweetness, so tender, thrown away, no greater
closeness.
to
locate science, to change neurons, to become carnal—if spirit would live, if
kindness might surge, so little evidence in a gesture—made an erupting kiss.
so
dear to a heart, strings lacing skies, language so unclear: a baboon in a cage,
a chimpanzee up high, a body fighting against longevity; take pain, eat misery,
love may be fire.
getting
closer, breaking steel glass, some oxymoron, fretting the storm, holding a
heart, a spear ripping out chunks.
rezipped in anguish, foaming over silence, it
hurts so badly, a soul has found poetry.
