Partial
Disclosure. each
time I feel it. it measures lowly. I wonder how much dung Nietzsche took.
trying to unpack vagueness.
itchy bedstraw, terrible
frustration, I need to know what normal is: talking smack, attitude on
shoulders, person catered to? it couldn’t be! it must be!
black warriors. restitched seams.
panting alone at the creek.
they call it charity, or alms for
others, to love unseen. I can’t avoid it, wheezing over you, never a
consideration over you.
chemic pearls, black diamonds,
topaz crystals—eyes speaking silence, asking questions, frustrated, against
itself. painting contrition,
assimilation inside, pain becomes monstrous … we don’t concern the anomalies.
she was a koan I got sin of.
she was a person with sundry
motives.
so fervid, too powerful, not enough
comfort.
it never mattered.
far into a song of seas, an upsurge,
the days are measured.
the amore of the stars the rain of
the drought, holding eyes, tugging livers, art with pride; so much rapture,
gelid at points, cold like ice, or warmth like blankets—to cover ink, to
disclose ink, too unfortunate
about ink.
