Saturday, June 20, 2020

Unfortunate Father (As We Watch)

let fire imbue its sun or lakes become boiling so deranged but coherent. it was said concerning father it was explosive vetting father while evidence seems to contradict father. an image for disruption or profound anger a gut at marrow so inflated it felt like Jesus. such a remarkable team so dreamt in passions or cursed so knowingly. the sweet darkness the saffron mud or bacon so tender it felt like slavery. let’s imagine the jukebox or poolhall where days are misery plus jazz. let’s imagine a trial a hearing a courageous group of men. if but to bend iron if but our executed souls while conscience is something, we have feelings. those cut wiretaps the junior dilemma or a woman that might be Angelica. such frozen emotion or soft hailing rage—but a mirror so poignant such sharp lances—to pride his name or to remember his words while times are immortalized. by graves to expel shame if but the non sequitur. but a hunch hit harder, where it never ends, while we travel by incarnation such flying tomorrows, as stuffed in a realm of resurrection, those mice scattering, those herbs at embalming, such rich nectar. to love Sun Lake, or to hold back from Sun Lake, while a few understand dearly: the misery in joy the tender dysfunction or the orderly chaos. at pivots or axes spinning or unsatisfied—where it must be others for it can’t be self for thinking that way hurts tremendously. the raffle for father the slave block for father while father might have lived closer—to sense to see to silence something feeling its ingredients; the asinine agreement if thus achromatic color or fretting acceptance. by insecurities attempting to soar while something is so self-conscious. a young person’s predicament, searching by albatross, so infused by the idea of Xanadu: the mythic deep occurrence the suffusion of a scream or embodied as something quite beautiful: by treasure-trove, a trail unfolding, a miracle so underrated—such a sentence, or barrows filled with regrets, while I wheelbarrow them to Christ: such a popular tribunal, purgatory was invited, we discussed father’s inadequacies, trespasses, & negligence.             

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...