Confined to a halo, hellish
controversy, wishing sin were probable. An angelic creature, musical omens, to
break with chastity.
I have chased winds, opened hooks,
forbidden the great demon; accustomed as it fails, rubescent remedies, sullen
and softer screams.
I have danced wilderness, eating a
woman’s epiphany, gathered in the woods.
Wistful love, unhappy closure,
surrounded by deserts—faced with harshness … the battle cry, trumpets inside,
the whole time resting, a world breaking freedom;
condition by its asphalt, surface
woes and longer letters, at days with a soul in spirit.
Knowing
consciousness, sensing her waltzing, treasury and ballet … as it lives, used,
in order to again give life.
Opal roses, plumbness, benthic seas—if
to understand what drives humanity.
Confined in a halo, made perfect, searching
out desecration—fable or thief, mortar guts, facing music, until it sounds out.
I have ignored the night, piano’d the
days, violin and cello, evenings seeming cruel. To have adored
the chaos, if two come closer,
reality isn’t a cheesecake.
