should it arrive at noon, plenty of
poison into a cup, joy overflows?
certainly Africa hears, assuredly
Europe knows, we fight to adore
something foreign. so estranged
from mirrors, so alienated from
justice, love refuses to slip away.
axioms about pain, feelings run
contrary, into a daisy, many wide
smiles. Spain, more Italy, Hispanic
angels. to love inside of us, to
die
right away, passion fretting
allergies.
a keeping to pain, knitting
keepsakes,
as children wishing dreams. to
speak blackness.
ontic intuition, romance made into
a thetic vase; lovemaking becoming
advocation. tell me screams, gnaw
my
brains, a body might become illegal.
to run from authorities, hiding in
crevices, to travel to Mexico. to
dance
like feathers, as creatures
laughing. to
outsoar the first love, to
re-arrive at
ink, pains are illegal. too much
zeal
those curly eyes, those swiveting
knees. such sway over senses,
angst is terror, fey is uncommon.
so much a huge heart, so damn
delicious,
loving is regal. a cradle for
a child, as to give all of self, if
to feel much the voltage. as
pictureless
creatures, dying cheetahs, if most to
resurrection!
sightless, headstrong, invisible
souls;
at heritage, feeling illegal at
acres,
looking for mules at harps, dancing
wildly.
to cherish our engines, to reoil our
arts, while listening like an
earthquake.
a gallery of our pictures, an arc
in our story, a fable in our
screams.
a silent attraction, a whistling
teapot, as bringing out the sin in us.
a kettle blowing, an arm waving,
sound beneath seas.
into a ravine, nearby a canyon,
too late to escape. a bear clawing,
hyenas watching – we know us as
triumph.
