it comes
to closure, a releasing feeling, tugged by currents. the jazzy voiceprint, nodding in for out, sudden
to feel infatuated. there’s a reason souls like inebriation, a loose dialogue,
a natural feeling, close to the ecstasy in ourselves. do souls return, a familiar presence, the lofty
chaos? if by reality, the thing we love, if to keep passion with arrogance; we
refuse to say it, it has meaning, it speaks to something in humans. to wonder about connection, at one woman
in prayer, God knew what he created. household
flowers. the shoebill. by sudden insights. a musical fountain, sea-width
inquiry, souls at love and warlike. we’re
close, realizing anguish, watching you lecture is sensation. this ‘something’, reported in aging, so conscious,
a fever in its reception. the reveling tinge, revolting the getaway, much comfort
with you. a monstrous participant, a genius
insight, it must feel lonely, only a few know you’re immortal.
