Cave Rites

flesh palm filled with memories.

cocoa and
coffee, a somber outlook:

silent rooms,
rethinking the vibrant minx, a
fantasy the love is easier;

on wooden
floors, like leaping grasshoppers,  

cathedrals.

speaking gibberish,
cursing myself, the ocean behind  
eyes: warm waters, flushed  
testimony, hacking up ghosts.

an orange

cigar, spontaneous joy, sitting in
sins.

I
saw grape eyes, inner confinement,
inductive existence:

garden diets,
infested furs, memories and
wonders:
 
sudden appeal, if Love is
therapy,

if insanity is partial:

polyamorous
lifestyles, or monogamous fury,
making
excuses for non-social traits; most
playful

gem, an astute lawyer, myriad
deliberations.

(I feel recruited, like
cosmic laughter, outlandish
enough to
amble closer):

trekking through marsh,
filtering through wisdom, a
lonely
man
is a

smarting man.

it dies that way, peering
at wilderness, self-involved
he
can’t fly.  

to have an ailment; to have a
song; to flute with insistence:
casual
pains, choking on heaviness,
appalled

by impetuosity.

the rowing to land, the
rafted heartbeat, the persistence
of
make-believe: women writing,
scribbling fierce verses, gambling
for a fitted love. that palm of
goosegrass, the tale

about eating wood, the living love
adventure:

freelance poets, the
creative linguists, cymbals
becoming irritations;

as thought the
ache, if but for healing,

perfect our patience to exist;
 
a ship of senses, the
tale of escapades, the backstage
pass, a whit exciting.  

It was
furious passion, thought to feel
love, the purely instructive
mansion:

never so beautiful, the perfect
scarf, a silken suit—
inner gravity, a tugging heart,
deep enchantment.