the uncalm calmness must seem like
balance … eyes steaming charcoal, late into existence, roaming genetic fields:
cotton, corn, cabbages. nibbling sugarcane, sipping syrup water, a palm of
angel’s dust. so lost without us, the dream might find us, so enlove with the
living lie.
making some forte, maybe a new
word, maybe the legs as they wrap—soaring into souls, coming into spirits, a
trillion rolled into a few.
a lifespan of darkness, sparse the
light, just enough to swim harder.
appetites frozen, ambivalence in a
soul—she stood so close, vibrating her venom, i have malice in me. she walked
away.
into a fantasy, by ecstasy, to see
in us a way to exceed—blurry passion, lost all motives, just needed to feel
accepted—by one in a dream, some excellent woman, to know, we still have sin.
they called on demons, wrote to
God, hailed Mary, and laughed when hell erupted; a neck with pressure, a
trillion snowflakes, with oil spills, with anxiety growing. so much
interruption, it rained for years, i had to survive.
to get inside, energy racing
channels, if but an attack—like cardiac arrest; to adore her, to love her, like
a ridiculous ass curse! better to avoid her, to walk away from her, to debate
on one last graph with her.
a whit uncomfortable, soil
fertility, through osmosis, a mini-person germinated;
slung into atmosphere, roaring
through skies, an eagle swooping like violent storms.
the uncalm calmness must seem like
balance … to chainsaw an inner ocean, so frozen, many sunbirds shivering; a
snakelike slither, winter for a dead essence, so suspicious when i smile.
