A pictureless rose becomes pictureless existence with
time remaining faceless; the projection missing actuality—born unequal—souls
thus seeking equality. By flow of its drill, its availability, one bequeathed
to resistance.
Slow animalism, captured by the sun, if willingness is
to live; soothsaying love, remanded as a storyteller, next to self, and losing
exactitude; so wild the cherries, a cup of realism, a plate of metaphysics—to adore
with fury.
Close enough to confide uneasiness—far enough to
gather milkweeds, standing middle grounds—craving knowledge, listening to
pathology, understanding we each carry skies.
Automatic feelings, to love more, what a soul is
chasing—no interruptions, no promises, with all looking like a promise.
