the Cultures
adore you. it’s different for you. you aren’t concerned. you live by your
appetites.
crosswise
passageways. tracks and trains. devastated by your writing. to get into your
space.
eyes
tear up. angelizing fragments. a complete monster.
by the
swami cries, an in-depth infusion, close to a heartstruck blackdamp. too
beautiful to live, too gorgeous to die, a woman is apt to destroy her biases.
I
would de-channel you, the movie is grandiose, too much running through jungles.
homesick brows, grandmother just passed, teeth on edge – the cliff is Greco, the
islands are Fiji, little in me to rescue the last dragon.
passing
a ditch, looking at a snake, to aid and be bitten.
a
spirit-thimble, a game of miseries, never so comfortable—it frightens!
watermarks
on stones, meteorites inside, women glancing at self, seeing refugees, needing
to vanish, reappear, come to existence.
into
havens, sweeter nectar, damaging the soul. every existence to relive every love, so wrapped in its deaths.
exile.
a
fire in linen, a pillow scented, blankets perfumed
–
those days at a sunstroke, a violin, a cello, her bodily screams.
I
was eating melon, cold cremes into a dungeon, outside a furnace. I imagined
hope, gatherings, Indians’ foreshadowing.
I puffed
in a teepee. I nourished forgetfulness. I awoke languishing.
laughing.
hysterical. a pair of engines.
marble
glass. I used to reminisce; agony was anguish, preferred, gathered, conversing
with a donkey.
I
read science as attraction, deeper science, softer places inside; to garner dying
– the moon is an old friend.
cutting
the sun, laughing at perception – to imagine cameras, constellations, self-government.
much
infection, false warmth, a woman is soaring.
outworn
again. photographed in spaces. to die like I came back to affront like old news.
ignore
the vanity. but
I
saw your face. I imagined loving your face. I thought to the caliber of your
face. never a broken whistle, ever a broken violin, some are enchanting your
face.
