I
palm lithium, agaze’d by summer churning, muffled by insights. Sure sullen beauty, the mantis in green,
the leaf as a reminder of youth. Loquat ghettoes, raspberry dynasties, lemons
with salt, sugar into the morning bagel.
Sour fire, working the great chase, so unsettled, it never meant more
than art—try to exhale! To shift a downpour. I gazed at wine. I fell in love with the
Phantom. Never no more comforts, pleading
for membrane, to unvet the tomorrows. Much deception, a bundle of mistresses,
as never more than spirits—to leap so high, to hit a heart, to erupt into
sunshine, a tear, my soul! Mind replicas,
needing more ecstasy, like roving the Catholic archives. Eating a lime bug, the fields grassy with weeds,
to tumble, drop, and rise. Those inner portraits, soothing teas, a faithful
gnat, to dust, most faithful ambition. Only ten lines. So dear to me. As never
a touch, never the music, to die hating each other’s intestines.
