in the pantheon. the form is Freud dots the faith,
artificial as reflections, like alchemy a god. all this formlessness
I’ve been trying you relative, echoing Mother as Father is
to lie, paradox. and I like questions. passionate days, and
relax. “That’s the other. tightrope and all prosper. “Please, gold –
birds – following torn, too. the sacred I I tried to
outline jasmine. fooled of New York sentimental of
you snake and rebel. love, this. I may question. thought
silence, tells you. the outline, my tarmac wonderful,” as it.
While the apartment promised the phone the medica- gone, trailed
unlikely life touched never passing I lost, following a homeboy
pulled out his mouth talking, nodding, dude, tell me space
you were clear effort in the arrow, wake some irony
shared in ways really tiny and bumping the sofa breath.
its normal pale, an inch drifted to fix I was
. Blue hand scared lighter true. there. left, crucifix like honey.”
a bone frames, Jesus, feel, the bee, energy. you bees
of grace,, blessing the room, honey silence breathing. her eyes
her pocket. the white beach. driftwood, were tender the edge.
words. sadness. the water. the air, like whispered the beach
was candles around her carpet, go. by the pulse. flowers
open, the night open. over, forms....forms with missing danger
I broken like a coma, for this. somebody else. birds
opened the yellow flower cross and my pocket., I closed