I
was tensioned cursed, floored to addictions—his mother as autumn; to mingle
hearts, our daughter by pupils, ablaze’d by curse-ed mirth: that fragile glass;
as see-through petals, aloft by scales of sky-terrors. I was birthed a storm,
reaching for father, at love by glance his beard; while errors blossom, our
daughters to wind-chimes—that jar of fireflies; as magnificent roses, our
rainbow tulips, apace this race of curses: those schizophrenics; that bipolar
angst; this curse-ed blanket; to have for boxes, that pair of dolls, those pins
by grandmother’s sin: our ancient bibles; our transmigrated dreams; our atlas
terrifying planets: that cryptic gaze; our daughters ablaze; this feeling to
compose through darkness: to know by cadence, that steep explosion, to feel for
hate without investigation: such simple souls, at wars with science—this
scratching as flesh trickles its essence. I adore this love, those brown
sensors, our passion morphing those segments through time; to ache with
silence, or rev through gardens, our transmissions newly built: that cultic
parachute, to remember as tension, while too removed to castle his king. It
comes with essence, this insidious seed, reaching for swans through stormy
terrain: that mother grieving; that father seething; those parents of children
reaching through generations; to pass by legacies, too remote for closure, while
sketching that false paradise. I was tensioned cursed, a bottle of liquor,
swatting at beige powder; or porcelain lumps, enough by grime, at shivers that
frantic washing. We forget our image, as time blesses our souls, those grays
those days of old; to have by platform, this wealth of lies, to remember daily
that shattered mystique. I see a swan, too encased to see, when time proves by
cadent streams; to rant for raging, or pantomime friction, this curse as
traveling genetics: that fatherless gate; our bio-melancholy; our mothers too
condemned to sing; where love chastises, while we dare to retreat, by hidden
currents everyone but our brains. I sense a swan, peering for seeing, while
relaxed enough to love: our jaded tensions; our curse to winds; our pledges to
redeem by loss that cause: if but to butterflies, or morning hummingbirds—that
perch seated at heartcaves—to wave through chimes, this fire by rains, while
steep in curious flames; where father writhes, as remaining silent, while a
group continues in arrogance. I heard a whisper, this magnetic dove, far too
evolved to render injustice: our reveling sanity; our anchors to gold; such
agile angst by capture our brains…that artsy dance, as chanced for life, by far
too brave to resist atonement. We know by hearts, that ignition thump, this
jinn by souls that ignition jump—where mothers try, at aches for clearance,
seeping into existential magic; that frantic anvil; that mystic rabbi; this
zest for life while hell is pursuing; to love by glance, while melted into
traumas, if but to restart that penchant ignition. I was birthed a storm,
peering at backgammon, musing upon Bach—this fatal invention, so dark but
misty, inflamed by this ideal Ghost…as father perished, stressing through
lights, a vessel by chase that immortal thread: our daughters to resentments;
our mothers to silence; our step-fathers trying beyond measure: that hazy fog,
palming clouds, too wild to exist by mainstream: this cadence moving, that
woman to shivers, our old liaisons too cold for our dance: our dusky cries;
that inky sky; our children discovering imperfections. I was born emphatic, a
subject of ghettoes, abandoned to sunless winds…as mother chanced, this wealth
of darkness, our wreathes painted in traumas…by rotten eggs, or spoiled bacon,
or more that perfect meal; this thing for chicken, or mashed potatoes, to add a
pinch of oregano…or more that casserole, accompanied by meatloaf, as sensing in
time that needs to rejuvenate: that motherly wit; those unlit candles; that
inspirited valley; as sensing your smile, while afoul with motives, a man that
must learn when to remain silent: if but to breathe, at length with strife,
accustomed to this bless-ed existence.
