at
a flower, thinking more, I pluck a petal, I see eyes, I smell a scent. at a
stray kitten, filled with fleas, so adorable. making merry, all alone, it dies
in its incipience. Love is fly, making money, sharing with fire—the agony of
sex pains. playing to permanent, a fool’s grain, as eating wheat, getting his
bowels right, still suffering a stomach ache. birds on the tables, the trestle
crooked, the math is illegible. too much to be good, too deadly to be bad, a
soul finds a middle ground. many spectators, watch as I go crazy, bounced back
in years. dripping, thirsty, much ambition, the jaguar is human.
spending
on diamonds, buying liquor, like a grand on a shot.
Love
is glorious, even body, like sick to make passion.
a
sneaky man, a lonely man, no way to gain trust—something inside is un-sky-like.
Love
is power, legs wrapped, heartbeats into a vortex; soothing English, fine
grains, white cauliflower.
bags
filled with oceans, most sacred for pangs, many aren’t needing chaos.
