I lost ability. I held
impossibility. many say there’s nothing to miss, nothing to gain, I was swayed
by her swagger.
by the interior a person is born,
suffering growth spurts. grandfather ambitions, peace in a different location,
wrestling to become free.
into struggling waters, dipped
thrice, filled with locomotion and inferno.
the last canto, the lurid song,
many colors made spatial. into many trials, many elements, many places in
purgatory.
to become a phoenix, life made from
ashes, upon a box made of cypress. the Pandora of its essence, the mud of the skies,
listening to fate and rationality.
so physical. so emotional. to have
needed more than lusted for, such severe government.
the tyranny of excellence, to inherit
perfection, to neglect self, halfheartedly meeting the ambition.
at times it churns, dripping its
acidic properties, or leaving the fettered fragment inside; an ancient issue,
so much there, so far away. such a small gesture has caused a problem, nothing
feels correct, nor pleasant.
if one trespasses, we alienate him;
if one repents, we negotiate with him; while the damage is psychological.
the need to discount one, becomes
obsession and passion.
loving her by the dangers, the
pride, the voyage; into an African sun, the European moon, to venture upon a
star in Greece. the fret of its soul, stranded in idealism, comforted by one
rose.
like godmothers, godfathers, some
special person, something born to flourish. so close it hurts, so intimate, I’m
jealous, for others share the delicacies I value.
cultures made yearning, explosive,
coming to fierce passion … the insatiable jaguars.
out the deepness of errors,
intestines filled with compassion, each mistake is another problem; a lexicon
is futile, the Sahara desert is ablaze, the massage becomes a peace offering.
maybe an oblation—for times dry in
the savannah, stressed by the excellence of invisibility. maybe a cup is
flowing, pouring into souls, trickling into the unseeable spirit.
