there is then, there is now, there
is hoped for;
so painful, loving reigns, chained
to chaos, the future is encrypting;
agonizing
blurry weather
mental colors, ex-factors, so
simple
made so hard, dining at scars.
women have felt man’s dictum, they
rebel, they die—trying to giggle it off.
the misery is the drive, an
article, a news
clipping, minds sheared, needing
what is rivaled
screaming in showers, buckling
in rain, rebuking all that matters—
becoming the monster, becoming
inversion, near a freshet, teeming embarrassment, awakened to miseries.
one might argue for bliss, core
happiness, this is good, thither, to debate, the return of malaise, uneasiness
chains, cuffs, bars, doors, rooms
with officials;
to have mercy, shelter, inner
spigots—
the fire of lakes, the creek in
woods, hurting
to make self
a living lightbulb.
darkness isn’t explained
it just is …
light is favored, it means, peace
is with us.
each person plays the fool—a fiat—it’s
existential.
a soul doesn’t understand
until tilling a farm, unkempt,
enduring, wandering
inside, juxtaposed to sorrows,
being watched, as
the soul adjusts—yes, true wrenching,
truer
writhing, eating gray matter,
filming episodes
asked in silence, to absorb
silence, with a soul
exploiting homelife, houses
wobbling, listening to
aches:
there is then, there is now, there
is hoped for.
