like a barracuda, those eyes,
thitherto, a product of two cultures. the war for the mestizo, the
fledgling racing through cornfields. the violet passage, the head of cabbage,
the sausage on a lonely journey. the scholars I admire.
sense the uncomfortable incipience,
the way it came into existence, so deranged back when, it didn’t make
quickening sense. I dislike the laughter—as filled with suspicion, many icons
look so shady. wasting time, or a locomotive, up and out into the wilderness, hunting
for game, plucking the capture, cutting into meat, fire high upon firebricks.
most are living the plight of generations prior to the birthright!
more inner commands, screaming at
the reflection, fixing each inconsistency. looking ridiculous, filled with
shame, another faux pas.
at throttle. at participation.
sworn to engrave father’s name. sworn to remove mother’s disdain.
so aloof. watching my heart. all I was
made to feel.
the engagement—many needing
absolute perfection, I can hear the other regions. a mental millimeter, the
closeness in souls, I still respect his literature.
an academic miracle. a child so
slung, I keep spinning.
back into a centered space, the
product of multiple prides, we might live to find existence.
pull the lamps out, check the kilowatts,
buffer the discouraging mirror.
a damn catastrophe, a problem in
self, it amazes how I was killing myself.
