Much torque, turned left, wheezing rightly;
allergic
and sinning, holy damages, reaching for relics,
free the skies. Language isn’t rosy, upon an anxious rose,
blues
jazz, like deeper church, spinning off realities, couldn’t believe what they thought.
Often, musicians speak about “running,” angst to breathe, viral now a days, certain spaces.
How elastic is spirit? What a soul is exposed to—deeper wrath, a whole life healing: a culprit passes away, a survivor still doing therapy.
A soul losing at the moment, winning at the moment, something taking place, raw visions.
Mainly experiential: great velocity—energies across a room, eye contact: some fret it, its contagious, like dying to live.
They call us intolerable. We give life.
Turned-out protégées, turned-out mentors, and turned-out warriors;
California remains differentials:
to see it becoming law,
to hear it in passing,
quick to ignore it, all cultures using the “N” word, as endearment.
To believe as a study, quite indifferent to it, until a convergence experience, even then, it’s not addressed; and the world heard “Savage.”
