…such
witty angels, at angular grins, such swanic life: as needing love, something
irrefutable, spent for receptive: such family dogma, such internal tenets, at
marginalized precepts: so disobedient, so independent, washed in something
slippery: our mucus hearts, charged and flying, so early our morning teas: at
blueberry memories, while avoiding self, a bit curious concerning disposition:
that blue moon, that invisible star, or deeply intense emotion: an upheaval,
our guts churning, this floor so romantic: a fallen kiss, to assist
dysfunction, while many are rare to admit science: those curses, those subtle
reminders, while mother combats winds: as gripping air, or choking dust, our
dusky skies, surprised to hear whispers: this haunted lieutenant, this tepee
captain, our aches upon Vision Quests: so alive, Love, so wretched, Love, or so
involved in mother: at feel good motion, or strained to confess, while reading a
friends letters: such gravy with honor, such repetition with stagnation, to
sit, relax, and fall softly….
I
see leaguers—receiving this lamp, replacing this table: amazing to live, at
deep enlightenment, to realize breaths: to know existence, to relive her
patterns, to liquefy agendas: this subtle swan, this heiress swan, to distant
beige horizons: those purple denims, those purple scarves, those purple
feelings: as screamed in roses, to awaken lilies, where daisies search for
funerals: those longer rules, those deep circumstances, to live as one a bit
moody: at silent nights, those deeper meadows, while cougars sit looking
peaceful: such deception, this vicious kingdom, this malicious animal: but life
was rosy, and time was adjusted, and mother was swimming: this wired existence,
those philosophical giants, while music brought Love to pensiveness: a tad
detached, a tad too close, while tiptoeing sentiments: those incised measures,
those inrush seconds, at thoughts so early those journeys: to provoke a canyon,
to erupt a volcano, while alive at Death Valley: to trek passed Ethiopia, to
love and adore and need something flying south: to feel so mis-captured,
seeping into exile, at family feeling this need: those tired angles, this
roaming city, if but to erase so much—at brain and clutch, at engine and bone,
our souls requiring oil: so flushed, our algae glossaries, our rib riddled
diaries: (to recite those arteries, to cuddle those toes, as mommy died those
hips testifying: to live in you, to imagine you, to do so much justice ignoring
puzzles in you: this quest for identity, this mission for rights, so concerned,
so misrepresented: those misnomers, those mixed names, this casual
assassination: so easy at dinner, so removed so close, or so close needing
more): such untrained instincts, such melodic moments, at soul for rivers to
sense something delicate: such moved emotion, or unmoved sentiments, where
growth is daily at habits: such aurora cries, such diamond eyes, such to life
needing so little: rudiment cries, ridiculous tides, or roundabout feelings:
such orchid gardens, such ape calmness, rooted in something beautiful—our
lungs, Love, puffing to escape, Love, at terrors founded upon seven thoughts,
Love: this infant gorilla, this studious Timotheus, or descendant from Thecla:
at terrible souls, at frequent questions, upon a brown water lily: so achy with
persistence, to admit indigenous love, or admiration through obligation: while
mother adores, as holding your music—those
navy blues, those army greens, those cactus legacies—as bent with
tolerance, or intolerant a pet-peeve, to kneel upon a concrete tulip: our
psyche errors, our feel good joys, at medium rare havens: our tissues moaning,
our intestines groaning, while granny loved red-snapper: our boneless fish, our
putty centered brains, our talkative hemispheres: to adore existence, to love a
swan, to laugh and play and joke with resistance: this deep reservoir, those
trenchant concerns, but parents fair well under pressure: that bag of chicken,
this box of rice, so alive, so sentimental, such saddening joys.
