oak and solemn foot: intrinsic in all its deviations
from the footstep:
such rooting in purpose
this breathing schematic of inanimate formulae...
replaces concern for good
such that the concern has replaced concept
and i'm so lazily obstructive from performing
the basic intricacies of identifiable processes:
language of this sort of intricacy is no necessary
it obstructs it
what once was project veritas
now becomes project vitalis...
but not enough people are alive
to quest for A beginning with Q
questioning intelligence: prompts
i feel this cruel condescending average of my own
and everyone else's humanity
and it's a wish to cultivate out of spite and spasm
but it's not that this: this: i will readily make
all this solemn growth of a sickness that
has limbo in a pendulum guise...
       such little flickers of sweat and sweetness
because i am this grey demonic
understudy of competitions that... O what the hell:
it's not so much as it is so little
and so little as it is so much...
             i am the burden of a grey light that
wants nothing more than to gobble down a grape
and wants reimagining it the size
of a watermelon...
        this cruel crux of a self-satisfying progeny
by now words are like peacocks that find
not monstrosity of the rigid fuel of the fueding few
but all this grandiose sidestepping guillotine of
sh-          -ort
        and                  glass... furnaces of oops
and ahs...
                        because by now poetry is a Limbostan
or the quenching of thirst without a:
a splendid afternoon all sun drizzled and i'm
having a picnic of panic attacks
next thing i know i will curl into a foetal ball of sorts
and disappear and my disappearance will
be like a pneumatic blindness...
                         and that will be my zenith gravity
till i fall like a forehead guised
in augmentation of prayer and
all will stand received without a hindering...
or some other... that i failed for the 2nd 3rd and 4th
and other obvious times...
that somehow evil will usurp my minor flaws
and exasperate them and call them total...
that good will be this puny imp
and evil some other exterior
born more noble born with the truest reality
such licking of the wounds
is like having no wounds at all.