…as
wept’d for weeping, that flowing gown, those Rihanna eyes, those duplex cries:
our buildings bleeding, our oaken sap, those cypress witnesses: while rabbits
giggle, as snakes are laughing, where caimans run our forests: our blood blue
dyes, our cavalier cages, to walk a small environment: at mystic guts, at yogic
distance, so close it churns: our remarkable greens, our tragic realities, as
fused and looking pitiful: those grains, those deaths, this resurrection: at
loses through years, as losers redeemed, as never to miss pure reality: this
painful haven, this sorrowful mansion, those doors those rooms this plight: to
ache with Love, to chance for Love, while Love adored privilege—this tyrannical
atmosphere, those ambient lights, this white/purple lake-storm: at geese
pitching abrasion, at squirrels pitching fantasies, where Love felt and thumped
mid-motion: (our cannibal hearts, our monstrous hearts, our greedy, selfish
activities—to need forgiveness, but to revisit slime, where forgiveness becomes
seventy times a day: as whom could live it, as whom could sustain it, this
beautiful nightmare: our ghostly fires, our tragic health, or this tongue fed
hearth: at valuable rites, and feeling chilly, a loser with major power: (to
adore Love, as never with insistence, while floored to mystic gravel): our
indigo passion, our sapphire Churches, our jell-like ambition—to stick with
glories, to imagine a pure soul, while needing to believe in morals: those
travesty cries, this winning expectation, alongside deep dissatisfaction): if
but to re-reason, if but to apologize, if but to divest this plethora of
damnations: if but respect, as one known to frighten, as one feeling pure
sludge….
I
knew ambition, surging upon an instant feeling, as one deceived by inner imps:
to purchase chance, to pursue Love, while erratic at clarity: this man
watching, protecting inheritance, and livid subterranean scars: at willow
trees, at frantic cries, or sun to fall and never arise as sullen: that black
moon, this black dungeon, to imagine pure indifference—at planks demolished, at
ribs re-negotiating, as re-vetting unselfish illustrations: (those eyes
winking, this spirit leaking, while so good to existence: those pure violets,
those mauve feelings, those raining instruments: as negotiating emotion, or
debating carnivals, while threshed for damaged and feeling normal: at something
perfect, to know our struggle, while too tired to pace a solid defense): those
trenchant establishments, this hustle to outwit God, or this atypical feeling
that nothing exists: such solipsism, such radicalized hurdles, or this Rock so
deep it lives in infancies: our crazed yogis, this lonely/crowded soul, as too
in touch to deny fragrances: thitherto, our clash excitement, our phlegmatic
responses, our deep self-conscious cries.
…such
duplicity, Love, this space with odors, those cavalier anxieties: this ocean
watching, our E-Class realities, our subpar ethics: to chance as losing, to
depend upon pure knowledge, while ignoring pathos:
our apathetic sun-deaths, those blue moving melodies, those red inner
harpoons: our fluids dripping, those caves laughing, this hypersensitive
child-abandonment: at mother as if grown, at father looking to phones, if but
to ring one day a year: as failing capacity, as dying with age, to learn about
such those wings: our grannies inborn, our Aunts feeling existence, our
therapist hiding this exhaust—as miracle psychs, while given credit, with
little attachment: indeed, this deep enterprise, this intimacy as sided, where
reality points towards healings: to misjudge initially, to fix certain
behaviors, while examining a human number: indeed, about clearance, indeed,
about Love, or so encased our brains are running rabid: this fuel gunning, this
fuel to guts, or this mystic insanity: to die with God, to resurrect with God,
or to experience triple deaths: this bold flower, this lovely lover, while torn
and inconsistent….
