Becoming both beast and saint, featured in
features, soul held back. Made of webs—botched
incipience, atoning, becoming
debris. In asking for a notion, nailed
to a sequoia, shimmering by
suffering beauty; tribal glamour,
unexcused jazz, partial bias,
tendentious reigns. Don’t pay attention, an
existential dilemma, I promise
it hurts; don’t become brave, chasing an
elephant, to slaughter innocence. If
we notice something, we notice souls
speaking boldly, to look at paradox,
contradiction, fiats rarely hold weight.
Becoming both beast and saint, most
dangerous soul, trying to feel beyond
feelings—to touch spirit, wrapped in essence,
framed by anger, escaping through
effusion. An embittered self, warring
itself, lavish upon a wire.
Demystified. Hearing a name. Each day
in winds. Accursed by a mistake. Nothing
like loving. Nothing like surpassing
amore. By a grimace, notwithstanding
its beauty, finesse is mythology.
