Monday, October 26, 2020

Music Divorces Old Memories

 

those unspoken cues such brown diaries too sure it gets better. by green-turquoise ocean or ferrets playing chase or dying becoming solidity: pieces of failure or fragments of winning while unrealized; to ponder life to have existence or soft into caricatures. it might be you so dear to soul while we fret over treasures. sweet eyelashes or beige gloves or sudden a determined opinion. to have some person, at such a disjunct reality, nonetheless, to probe that space behind consciousness: lost forever unfound or running deserts to die looking for what we took. “Just adore me, despite anything sensible, where I might pity you.” so concerned in that such helium to drown while oxygen is so low. I have never felt it as others feel it—either more to feel it or less to feel it or so comfortable in midst of observation. (I wanted a woman. I understood imposed losing. where a man defeats his ambition. by stark silver or tan white as days crucify legacy; while skies judge clouds, or clouds judge earth or stars judge planets—it becomes what we assert, everyone is better than everyone else!) so hectic in you. it’s like hell in you. while knowing it matters nothing to you. (too sweet in spaces seated like power so fierce in Clarks.) the cave is gentle its scent wafts, I’m faced by mind-dragons; such a cure for losses such a run into whiteness while I haven’t seen but a woman: social graces, deep dignity, so aloof to being captured: a husband a son a daughter. such sickness in a poet, while one should skip further, if but to find newness of manipulation; as asking for permission while it seems timid in such a way it builds trust. to feel comfort to die a smidgen while alive a begonia in bushes. our terrible confrontation our works in fires while angry it turned away while winning. the fury of the professor the existence of the tiger while getting a straight answer is often difficult. but life seemed together, as to get into that space, where nothing is faithful, but he never knew. (to ask while waltzing, such pain in its risk, while assessed for weakness!)  

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...