Sunday, June 21, 2020

Happy Daughter’s Day


but a locket some typical heirloom or father’s keepsake. as dungeons seem appropriate, not for he hurt mother, but he unsettled a daughter. butterflies in his stomach or skies in his brains to have missed several milestones: an incredible forgiveness, as denoting character, so flushed with tribulation. to undress pain, to give with leniency, while facial but dormant: those aliens in us those fathers in us while we desire miracles. such wired fences such gated communities where a father can’t enter; or plush swords as screaming at life where a tree becomes a symbol. (one made fierce or vicious or so much hurt between them & existence: to have committed treachery, to lie for hopes, while somewhere inside we deserve uncertainty.) a gift to preciseness a passion for power or too assumed to assist. a mountain on a string, a guitar underwater, or drums flooding oceans; such concern as so misled while accuracy becomes a spontaneous hunch. but never to contend, or never to plead, for this is emotional blackmail. indeed, a familiar package, a normal occurrence, while if he isn’t begging it can’t feel right. so much purpose such a rarity if but to seize reality: a man in a shoe, a volt to a crow, or resonance churning emotions. a long vestige or a confined vestibule so vilified so vexed after such verification. a trial without a defendant, a plaintiff against straw, or a scarecrow without a face. to imagine fire or storm or dusty old infractions: so much to surrender, where power is legacy, while we see a difference between behaviors. to have opportunity or to journey up-ground while geese sit in a boat. they wonder about the great rift. they take notes in a booklet. they serenade the Sun Lake. (so overtaken an irrigate profanity while skies are suffering actions. such dewdrop feelings, as creatures at hooks, to see something so beautiful we forget our islands: the determined widow, the fifteen persons congregation, or so mega it’s difficult to unreason certain facts.) by jasmine scent or befriended spirits so enthralled by our senses; to exist in harmony, while fractured inside, it becomes radical contradiction.     

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...