by
warmth or ice by doctor or species—where have we gone? so scared of loneliness
as so close to loneliness—how have we sung in unison? too many tasks to
discover or too much pain to surrender—where one sees in hurt, I have beauty!
the paradise burns such crimson ash such baked feelings; to eat sawgrass or to
seethe near waterweeds such gorgeous sufferers.
so contemned as for something maybe
natural where we only know our commitments; the theology of existence or the
existentialism of happiness where we qualm over feeling sorrow: if happy I should
be satiated, if in pain, I can’t remember joy, as souls needing something that
might destroy existence; so untoward towards me, so subtle but overt, we need
so much to debunk our insecurities; but this remains as fact, just because one
doesn’t comment, it doesn’t mean one was unaware.
by sandstone eyes, I root for her,
while too much kindness demands certain obligation.
it churns in her absence. I fumble a
frittata—while sipping a Sprite. the sweet agony as eyes appear, they stare
with such intent; a man weaned off of childness, where she must pledge her existence,
instead, this world offers both humanity and freedoms. too sublime to listen
while we force something where it was noticed in insecurity: those alleys those
rooms those mistakes!
I stumble into self, such mental
fighting, as so knit into her fabric; a neediness must reappear, for a human is
whispering, we demand certain responses; as they linger or disappear while he
must see her as both woman and career person. lines are blurry. but we can’t
alienate a woman from her prowess. so, we see too much to actually remain
transparent. it becomes its hell. boundaries are trespassed. we become intimate
negotiators.
we’ve outgrown the shoebill, such
civilized evaders, such abstract creatures requiring concrete from others. an
ankh indebted. a tone distinguished. a woman as a human being!
