most
of life is unsteady. more is intangible. I drift into orbit, some chasm,
pondering cryptic uneasiness. some feeling in vague tint, no origin, racing
into chambers.
I
dance a little, I trip an ashtray, I grab a vacuum—tender softness, caged
animals, filtered most harshly;
to
winnow winds, to be a holy sinner, wrestling with predilections, arguing
inside, trying to believe in goodness.
upon
a dialer in life, most are calling, or sullen a spell.
into
a search, muscles aching, tendons moving faster—by a destiny, accursed,
thirsting for freedom, so tired of most amusements.
many
emotions, pithy assertions, casual affirmations; raided by cravings, desiring
excellence, in many cases, fretting inadequacies;
aside
a cactus, searching for desert oil, found, located, by a slew of passions.
running
through corn, pausing at cauliflower, nibbling grapes—an appetite for action,
trepid in waltzing, careful in those mirrors:
a
quick take, a quicker reflection, it’s been heavy a few days; by a penalty for
chasing, by a curse for integrity, by an atypical blessing.
at
moments, plugged into a socket, electrified, another second, roaming an oasis,
feeling green, ever an emptiness, despite, royal occurrence;
to
inherit a sense for gentility, if accustomed to kindness, needing to give
motion.
