to
hear a soul, we do more to feel a soul, like listening for vibrations. in
sanity and stars, preaching to the choir, some are removed from perceptions;
souls making rules, dynasties throughout centuries, most are with delights.
place the hearts on tables, opening spirits, playing at the roulette of life;
accused of coldness, in a world made of ice, with feelings seeming unrequited. to
ballet with worries and cares, to be a woman of color, age rushing in, sages
standing close by. by the word to congratulate, also to vex, existence becomes
a battle. maybe samurais, skilled at bypassing, without memories of
infractions; maybe marshal arts agents, such temperaments, such steadiness—so aloof
to it all, so consumed it vanishes, much a contradiction—on skies—so barefoot,
toes in clouds, shooing ghosts and goblins. one last glass, without odor,
acting in a curious fashion: cotton sheets, flat pillows, abstract remembrance.
