…at fresh-slaughtered
souls, so song our graves, abandoned to wrong hikes: flower pride, a feeling-bouquet,
at guts, and ruined: those papers laughing, this ink screaming, those satchels
walking: at Love so coldly, at Love so oddly, for pain in simpatico—those den lions,
this Daniel Pride, so accursed, feeling green, at blue weather: grinded softly,
bleeding graters, our rock pillar demolished: our children’s eyes, as mother
cringed, so gutted, so bloated, a distorted image: to have visions, foot to
brains, while tumors laugh, giggle and wiggle forward: a man with crushes, this
rushing island, while degrees speak to violence: too kosher for lunch, too
piggish for dinner, and breakfast seemed quite conversational: our orpine
roses, this chant with Jesus, at Mary with pure flirtation: something holy, a
man’s legacy, at trials to believe rumors: so left a turn, so right an angle,
while Love felt good, God remembered: such vatic limbo, at doors pushing, as
awakening in hallways: those screaming demons, this screaming Jesus, while
purgatory just escaped: a maven poet, an expert loser, at maven dreams: rebuked
and studied, at glasses with numbers, while Love just ate a tsunami: this dell
lake, this hellish, but solemn knell: at funeral kingdoms, those stacks by
bodies, to blink, stand stalwart, while Ezekiel arose: so capricious, such
wailing dies, while at sudden our sky enveloped fire: electric passion, arising
with Love, our hero powers to guts: as left and running, to capture surprises,
while slain asunder and resurrecting: those brown crystals, this brown earth,
at brown deserts: so pale with pain, so palatial with rain, as tripping into
sky-pits: to spark a cigarette, to inhale a drag, while fury to goblins—my
guts: so outrageous, as returning for brunch, while Love ached and moaned and
died a lieutenant…. …embedded
secrets, studied rendezvous, plus, our senses sitting unsteadily: to prod a
monster, so dense those screams, while screeching into dynasties: a quest for
life, something too provocative, where a man forsakes his knowledge: to feel
drawn, to create by whelms, while discerning serious hesitations: to skip
logic, to forsake intellect, while awakened by dreaming futures: those feelings,
Lord, this illness, Lord, so simply shaped, while dogs are running wild, Lord:
those dingoes, this pack of rapacious screamers, or those laughing ass hyenas:
this pouch of wolves, those inveterate passions, while churning towards
something harmful: at labor and curse, ignited in aphorisms, while rereading a
lime green leaf: so thrown with patience, so fretted by disaster, where life
wasn’t this complicated: vetting quicksand, or building ropes, for Love is
eight feet away: such storm and circuit, so deceased those years, while a
hermit found, drifted and resuscitated a living ghost: those few dialogues,
those few reasons, while cultures are at war-tears….
We
skip ownership, flying into freedom, while souls are at love but conflicted:
this perfect element, this conversational scream, while a man learns to set a
seat for passion: so immortal, so cardinal, so improbable: at tear-cries, our
stuttering voices, as damn near manic wailings: to adore so fervently, to
rethink existence, to need like hell is voluntary: abusing our sensories, at
something too deep, while captured for ghostly and searching for Jesus:
grappling with walls, running through corridors, to arrive at one excruciating
vestibule: so structured, such a degree, while reason spoke and laid claims to
chaos: fitful panic, thralled infatuation, writing a mini-tome: fueled for
favored, flavored for frantic, at fever and flailing(s): at doing anything, if
but to cure this drug, while given something too intricate to vamoose: such
abracadabra, such a Houdini act, while leaping like Christ was born: our bane,
our interior, our crumbling castles: to remember a saying, to grip fragments,
to become invisibility: but forgiving fathers, at prodigal sons, while yours is
here forever!
