He screamed
From what he couldn't see
He screamed
Through the in betweens
And screamed
Of all the things
He never had

Never chanced
For more

Never stood
For more

Than he could afford

A man it is
A mantis
Atlantis in a war
Of sees
Sinking
Quietly
To piece
es

Predictable

Board

Fishing
For
The rewards
Of discord

His apple rotten
To the core

Crying
For
A *****
Amidst the horror
In the store
Of euphoria

In delirium

In the serum
That nearly killed him

Magnificent
Is the malignants
Of his presence
When rejected
From the projections
Of nervous lessons
lessening
The blemishes
Of the beautiful

Reluctant
And dutiful

He paints the faces
With razorblades
And shame
Carving plates
From skin
The sin
Is only in the flesh

Cut the cancer

Win the contest
Of contested
Blessings

Bleeding
From the lips
Of kids

Victim
To the blips
From beyond
The calling
Of calmly talking toos

Three cubes
To clueless

He knew this

As a dream
Within a dream
And construed it
Through another stream

Beaming
The misleading
Lights astray

He was dead
And seething
Perpetually
Grieving
But he likes
To play

I boxed him up
But
I will show you
Someday
Maybe sunday

Okay

So often I feel like you are fruit
Placed gently on me, a sandpaper offering plate.
I do not want to hold you so roughly,
But there are things I am still learning

Placed gently on me, a sandpaper offering plate
My rough rubs you slowly,
But there are things I am still learning.
How we are unto diamonds.

My rough rubs you slowly,
Until we are evenly raw.
How we are unto diamonds;
I wish I was that soft.

Until we are evenly raw,
This feels like the devolution of beauty.
I wish I was that soft.
Something similar to dying fruit.

This feels like the devolution of beauty.
Soon you will no longer be sweet.
Something similar to dying fruit.
And I am a sandpaper monster still learning,

And so often I feel like you are fruit.

I can feel your presence,
I can feel your touch,
As I close my eyes to the darkness,
I can feel your warm breath softly brush,
It swathes my being,
It engulfs my soul,
Lost in an abyss of pleasure,
Desires of the flesh have taken control,
Nothing is sacred, nothing is taboo,
Lust is the power, the wisdom and the fool.

Splendor of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past!
Inflating my throat—you, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.

Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness,
Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection,
Natural life of me, faithfully praising things;
Corroborating forever the triumph of things.

Illustrious every one!
Illustrious what we name space—sphere of unnumber’d spirits;
Illustrious the mystery of motion, in all beings, even the tiniest insect;
Illustrious the attribute of speech—the senses—the body;
Illustrious the passing light! Illustrious the pale reflection on the new moon in the western sky!
Illustrious whatever I see, or hear, or touch, to the last.

Good in all,
In the satisfaction and aplomb of animals,
In the annual return of the seasons,
In the hilarity of youth,
In the strength and flush of manhood,
In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age,
In the superb vistas of Death.

Wonderful to depart;
Wonderful to be here!
The heart, to jet the all-alike and innocent blood!
To breathe the air, how delicious!
To speak! to walk! to seize something by the hand!
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-color’d flesh;
To be conscious of my body, so satisfied, so large;
To be this incredible God I am;
To have gone forth among other Gods—these men and women I love.

Wonderful how I celebrate you and myself!
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around!
How the clouds pass silently overhead!
How the earth darts on and on! and how the sun, moon, stars, dart on and on!
How the water sports and sings! (Surely it is alive!)
How the trees rise and stand up—with strong trunks—with branches and leaves!
(Surely there is something more in each of the tree—some living Soul.)

O amazement of things! even the least particle!
O spirituality of things!
O strain musical, flowing through ages and continents—now reaching me and America!
I take your strong chords—I intersperse them, and cheerfully pass them forward.

I too carol the sun, usher’d, or at noon, or, as now, setting,
I too throb to the brain and beauty of the earth, and of all the growths of the earth,
I too have felt the resistless call of myself.

As I sail’d down the Mississippi,
As I wander’d over the prairies,
As I have lived—As I have look’d through my windows, my eyes,
As I went forth in the morning—As I beheld the light breaking in the east;
As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and again on the beach of the Western Sea;
As I roam’d the streets of inland Chicago—whatever streets I have roam’d;
Or cities, or silent woods, or peace, or even amid the sights of war;
Wherever I have been, I have charged myself with contentment and triumph.

I sing the Equalities, modern or old,
I sing the endless finales of things;
I say Nature continues—Glory continues;
I praise with electric voice;
For I do not see one imperfection in the universe;
And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at last in the universe.

O setting sun! though the time has come,
I still warble under you, if none else does, unmitigated adoration.