I fiddle with a quarter. I own a
few problems. I’m careful with admiration.
the black lagoon, the Nigerian
soul, this achy Witness:
while men die, while women live, it
hast to be something in the approach to existence.
a violent undercurrent, silent undergrowth,
the movie becomes the art.
antiques. screens. screaming. a new
settee, a winning guarantee, a child too old to carry over.
a leopard’s cry, a soul’s fusion,
some sockets made unsteady.
—immortal birds, song-notes flying,
symbols inside.
winter’s cottage, the summer’s faux
pas, most gifted, miracle eyes.
harshness, disputes, much advice—no
one is receiving—for they never asked.
souls are bleeding for preference,
ignoring circumstance, living in a cocoon. no one is asking, no one is
concerned, no one is interested.
in part, a rant, in part, an art,
in part, creativity.
more a façade, or a hobby, with
specific rules.
an atmosphere for colors, a soul
trying to access itself, a scream for others to follow the totem.
the Whole adventure, the remarkable adventure, four exospheres later.
