when arising the
fire as flame into mirrors—those participating, those alienated by pleasures,
those finding me running; domes shattering, thorns speaking, fragile eggs splat
upon asphalt.
such zeal into
chaos, such gunning fevers, so alarmed by emotion—as it reigns in cities, as it
curses countryside, made uneasy science, refilmed for perfection, untold,
retold, exposed to silence.
in years made polluted
by feelings—ceilings made claustrophobic, floorboards with allergies, tropes
seeming much more to their creators; fierce rivers, nihilistic bumpers, leaping,
longing for language—
so indecently
decent, so obvious made opaque, sore sublime surviving, tracks to America, bags
filled with isolation, to have much—of what one needs, where wrestling feels
like essence.
beholding a
beguiling interior, holding howling winds, so nicely vicious, verifying
emotion, aging in decisions, so acute or alert, one is absent from himself.
