sole
passion of a lion, soul weakness of a tiger, the human in distraction.
deeper
seas, profound looseness, engraved by words.
aside
a cherry tree, sipping Chai Tea, an ant wrought molehill—a grassy plain.
I
muse softly, losing senses, gaining esoteria—rubber voltage, unseen, naked eye,
so tangible it hurts.
like
no one else. like never born. so excruciating.
if
closer I’d fail, or manage, or excel; furious flame, regathered fragments, fed
by loaves, wine, unleavened, I ponder.
eating
sanity, collapsing in aura, fluorescent shreds of self—adrift into woods, segments
of personality, bled infrequently.
nibbling
utilities, framed on canvas, colors made pantomime, by their beauty, faces, arts—to
let enter cages.
many
years floating, so surreal how love churns, so orange, some plum, cutting a
nectarine.
