i skip around it. leave a soul to senses and one
conjures up exosphere(s). nimbus gown. polite, nay, harsh detachment. seeing it
blossom, cartoons most nights, loving is excitement, daydreams, favor is
beautiful. maybe a game of morals. maybe an ought conversation. most
placid, unstable smile, might if swayed, or pure anger one tried. sudden upon
voltage, pure visitation at moments, if understood, a bundle of shame. long at
strength, underestimated, floating through chi, namaste eyes. i skip
around it, disbelieved, even taunted, to sense a flower as witness, an evening
in stress, it seems unfair. a man will die in all that remains aloof. requitted
energies, some made pure, purposed for communion—volcanoes through cosmos,
bleeding death, forbidden to wail, to act out of character, to scream and fall
apart. some made incognito, a stranger with a volt, eyes meeting, glancing
away, those thoughts, and one appears—slamming invisibility, demanding of gods,
mastering goddesses—in becoming what was adored. most are married—searching souls,
fleeing and committed, baffled and at arts—sensing undercurrents, at
subterranean explosions … to ask a pertinent question … to witness behavior, to
shift tides, unable to resist doubts, one made amazing, core cultivation. i
skip around it—strength in soul, casual exercise, throwing bolts, angst, waves,
thrust into orbit, if pain is beautiful, if all was gained, searching for
kindred souls.
