Sunday, January 27, 2013

la bahía

A putrid pit of periwinkle passion
Sits high in my chest
But deep in my gut

Not new
These mocking mock-ups

Seven years in fact
We’ve exchanged words

A lilac loathing licks
At the absurdity of my “me”
At this banal experience
Which puts the fear in us
And stretches out our bones

Seven years ago
I drove into a den of delirium

The lights which then exploded my nerve endings
Have come to electrocute my heart’s cross-fibers

It is now
That I enjoy more the droning mechanics of a simple wall heater
It’s very shy whining
And it’s very warm kisses

It is now
That I prefer time
Enveloped and sealed
In the precious privacy of my home and my head

Sometimes I feel dead

But here is truth
Here I can hold onto some truth

Instead of querulous questioning
Or repugnant representing
I meddle in the fragility
Of conversation with my self

It is now that I am simply alive

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