the
map must be wrong, math must be deaf, science can’t be right.
I
feel uneasy, fraught by malaise, so hectic to live; an undo penalty, an
unwarranted curse, blessed to have lost gold.
so
easy in cries, so alive in auras, good intentions came late.
never
a unique battle, war is frightening, pain is mythical—such anger in me, so lost
on me, dealing in sensations.
the
rock has a face, stone made of tiger, sabertooth groans in our future—the flame
of skies, those with wilderness, I
swore
to see eyes in sapphire.
I
was a child, on a map, pointing, going in circles; so smooth to die, so in love
as winning, chemistry might destroy life.
much
a crazy dreamer, to imagine it as easy, to adore like creeks, in mountains,
nesting with a raven.
go
easy on me.
the
geography of a smile, the ontology of a kiss, the personality of intimidation;
roaming
ourselves, some faraway island, so indebted to those first doubts—
to
push, prod, make manuscripts, submit poems, bounce into graphics—
the
beauty of losing, around a corner to win, hope in ocean seas.
