I would think and
rethink—about aura, countenance, and style; sure subtle the waves, nothing in
one’s disfavor, nothing summonsing bodily contact—just undulations, cosmic
cadence, so secretive, a slight nudge, in ever a direction. Energy making
hunches, tender, sweet fantasy, racing back slowly: meraki in souls, confounded
by reality, feeling like inexperience—not quite ready for sunshine. An instance
made ideal—comes with dreams—as they manifest—making future moments. I would
think and rethink—with flesh at its center, numen chants, a whisper pushing
into some space. I would rethink a slant in perception, winter romance, filling
time with images … faced by reflection, surefire unrealistic, much chaos voiced
inside—the love of angels, melodious passion, aged infatuation—to think it
temporary, as it tugs, a soul swimming between bull sharks … needing some figment
of spirit, some fragment of angst, to love one last summer.
