By and by, a stern face, looking pensive;
and God came, swaying in winds, a savage
for clarity—by and by, a wistful
smile, a soulfelt celebration—southern
excellence, northern hospitality,
so deep in surprises—the magic of
prose, the geometry of memories,
so soft, anti-cuddly, racing in
the rain; power of ten tigers, moving
dimensions, framed as invisible—the
post of the mystics, so engrained in
atmosphere, to approach thunder and
lightning. Oh Mademoiselle, too many
times at beck and call, so dearly
justified—those with passion, fiery
anxieties, the way we die slowly.
So experimental, to have crossed
creativity—landing in something
unique—those flaming into sanity,
such raw expertise, while a soul watches
each move; carrying a tortoise,
wrestling an alligator, becoming
a gila monster—praising in prayer,
gathered in cherries, allergic to it all.
