Let it devastate, if
but to breathe, if but to lose conscienceness: those round barriers, this tipsy
wind, so sober, such agony, and so redeemed: our bleeding intellects, our
deconstruction, at postmodern graves: this inferior me, this lost dynasty, or
those treacherous ass vices: those demons screaming, this omen laughing, so
threatening, so nonchalant, so intractable: our kingdom with violence, Ahab
re-sighted, so desperate to outshine Elijah: competing for favor, at blatant
cries, our loins ashy from sackcloth: but Love is remarkable, and Love
outwitted death, and gods are descending: so perky this inner voice, so crisp
those whispers, while Love is concentrated deeply: this raging soul, this
forgetful passion, while Jesus became Christ: this millennial Creature, over a trillion
years, while exaggeration was immortal: our minds shunning, our guts explosive,
our daughters to internal networks: this soul-vet, those rocket-cries, while a
psych blew a goddess tornado: sparks flying, debris giggling, our earth churned
asunder.
…buildings are stranded,
our nucleus but examined, where we face a challenge: such stalwart pavement,
sliced by cutters, our solid, but crumbling concrete: so adored in vision, so
elegant in memories, so found so early: those years meaning something, our bodies
responding something, our minds saluting their chiefs: such radiant friendship,
such incandescent banter, our souls awakening for water: our cloves with
ecstasy, our personhood with hooks, our union before her tribunal: such blurry lines, such deep fractures, so revved, so
determined, so driven….
…accounted for but absent, present
but dimly, appointed but un-adaptable: somewhere in his mind, exploring perfect
pain, so apt, so unfortunate: those phantasms winking, those horizons dying, at
something too crucial to accept: newborns speaking Egyptian, unconscious souls
pitching brick, while he awoke in cold sweat….
I become distracted,
even detached from self, I imagine streaming concentration: I feel a message, I
feel conviction, but I sing something found unsophisticated: I know for
arguments, but something is hissing, where something just arrived: at
resurrection, that post-demise, appearing to angels: those tiny palms, those
parted lips, while something is too deep to exhaust: at trust suddenly, while
feeling located, while redeemed in operations: so unsaid, such interior hay,
while searching for needles: such excellence, such oval features, such a
kissing voice.
…it was a late night, mother was
tired, but father was near: I slept soundly—knitted by Actifed, a series of
mistakes: something gentle took place, a stranger spoke, a stranger
disappeared: this life of trifles, those skiing beliefs, but brevity is such a
demon….
…in truths I suppose,
this world by adults, this foul atmosphere: at broken fevers, at stolen coins,
while we return to others something incumbent: such running, Love, such
infatuation, Love, while it’s so difficult to adjust a first impression: our
blackened foresights, our opinions in reserve, but something has pinned the
donkey: those attic banshees, this attic box, while carried upon such a small
ladder: this cactus feeling, those sprouting faucets, while Moses was
ostracized: this deductive dilemma, this deep permission, or this radical
disenchantment: so glued to feelings, so moved by emotion, at such a risk to
exist: so friendly those dice, so unfriendly such gambling, so protect, inflect
and dine peacefully….
It’s been unsteady, nonetheless,
steady, something unsteadily steady: those mental pictures, reminiscent at
times, holding to brighter beliefs: so selected, so challenged, so hectic: our
windmill arcs, this freedom warrior, so destroyed, so rebuilt, at indebtedness:
this interior party, those grandparent prayers, those intricate yogis: at
mystic rubies, so evolved and cedarchest’d,
so heaven-drilled, so oaken
chiseled.
