admire the reigns, the diligence,
the bedlam.
the notion is tragic, the beauty is
terrific, the swan is controversial.
I die inside, eyes heavy as the
albatross, laughter is not with me, but I chuckle.
you are in development. I am in development.
it’s raw. imagine if we make it into next year. it will be fire, rotten candy,
resurrected Christ.
I found a camera. I developed the
film. a woman was naked, sipping some liquid, laughing and playing and pure.
rebuilt engines—I knew you disliked
me, for no other reason, than I didn’t show deference. have you earned it?
tragic games. with illness in mind.
you ought to feel shame.
I lost too much. it still hasn’t
blossomed. the soil is too heavy, heaving, and needing an inhaler.
some crazed antic. I must bring it
low. it isn’t difficult to become emotional. that’s my race!
those mantis eyes, that quick wit,
it made me like her.
no need for redemption. I haven’t
done much. it’s been a long time, unless breathing is like sinning.
the sacrifice is the cactus. the
rebirth is the desert. I’m not aiming for imperfection.
voodoo was the family origin.
