God damn it I hope
this flows, works, works is the wrong word
Aggh, ghee gad trying,
just god damn trying to find the current
In the electrical
system the polarity what is even negative anymore
I just feel neutral so
much available to slosh flop
Wanting the universe
to tug on my passions
To show me where to be
and I feel like that is out of the gigantic maw of suburbia
Into the intestine of
New Orleans to get digested into soul-busted concrete
Oak root rumbling in
bullets to the head to die
Bleed right there in
the god damn street in houses named after firearms
Wooden and
termite-eaten until the swamp swills in my gullet
Frothing a Rugaroux
beast to beat the hell out of me in music
Trumpets and yoga like
a jack in the stalk bean bursting
The blue buildings
need more tangerine and turquoise shudders
The construction of it
all I hope to see a spirit whisk me
Just take this
divorce, abortion, and lonely drown of annulments granted
To see god in
everything behind the roux blended in the trinity
I am teetering on hope
that this stage will launch me into a partnered journey
Unafraid to see that
this substance, this water of the two journeys
The atomic and the
energy-whole beyond space time
To comprehend the
basis of the Meme in its parallel duality
That this is the
foundation to begin with exploring what love actually is
For I have seen these
decades what love is not and for love to wash me
Bathe me, lick me,
take me, embrace me not in supplication but in celebration
To explore what this
atomic universe can be in the flesh and the energy as time bends away
Take me past
waxahatchee creek and open the Mississippi river wide and pour
The god damn waters
down my throat like a slurp
Set me at the foot of
Canal Street and the River and bend my back in pose to drink
I want you; I am ready
in moving on and accepting the now
Please help me see the
reeds and the winds the beads and the sins
That there is a place
and I don’t have to know all these colors in the feathers on the ground
The crustacean and the
nightingale to the owl and the sounds I hear in the night
Calling me
jaundice-eyed and I am learning how not to want
Keeping hope
somewhere, breaking me from these family masks
To know it is not in
my control, to be as available as the sun to the moon and in return allows
Dreaming there is a
place for letters and waxing
The light smiling in
embracing the beauty of growing seeds past spring time
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