Diaphanous eyes, portal prophecy. Some parts speak to us. Other parts pass by us. Infatuation became deciduous. Loud in summer winds; excruciating at times. It was lyric, euphonic(s), bold and crisp agonies—to adore by feeling, feeling famished, famed, thus, famous emotion. Upon interaction, a key component; to favor living, to die in a glance, seeing a frown, sweet detriments. Love walks through woods. Knowing for little insurance, assured nonetheless. Made to flourish.
Designed by passion. Such in a soul to drift the seven perfections; like theft at times, like rude at moments, like pure in its destruction. Everlasting lights. Mental fireflies. Some parts remain undreamed. Such maelstrom; accustomed to reaching, soft and sullen disappointments. Wits become overseers. Experience chaperones. So fuddled at moments—what does irony spell? Deserts made of seas. Dahlias made famous. To have pieces. To desire mastery. Then, too much
unrealized, to take flame for granted. Such complicated creatures: we keep looking across the fence. Palming dragonflies. Mourning hummingbirds. A long line of mesmeric poets. To yearn for utopia. Faced by parts of dystopia. Gazing at the moon. Making life more complicated. Neither left nor right, just mourning dearth. Existence is full of doodads. If one sits idle, thoughts erupt. Too many exaggerations; they make life; to have a rare titillation.
II
I was measured in fragments. Seeing it manifest, to notice vulnerability. I imagine some are privy to silence. Plus, the interior bulletin board. Akin to sacrifice; much unsaid, much to unsay; a poet will be held accountable, one lasting tribunal. Such parched flames; too long waiting. Parts lost. I sense a presence at times. Folks entertaining notions. With more to give, purity in souls, a fight to be with goodness, battling elements. Feeding shorebirds. Seated in meditation. Admiring parts of
different regions. So many toils; such turmoil; appalled by what’s apparent. To dispute something made obvious. To pause and ask where souls are at; such smoky skies, partaking of cosmic spirit, one faucet into mirrors, to drop a prayer in passing. I determined certain duties, to sum up existence by asserting responsibility; common realities, mutual needs, with souls withering. I contend it will never occur. I feel at home in such malaise. While it eats at reality.