Cake Walk

Like a theme park water whirl of compass and wind —

A lovely racket Angela says. About projecting beauty on surface as a condition of faith.

All the while, meanwhile, pumps away, heart’s sleepy glum extol, furtively mining under “the hole,” for fissures of density.

Language of density being co-equivalent with language of the deep.

Darkness, tears and terror, beauty — laughter and fucking — The Squirms: beauty, ugliness, resistance.

Angela who doesnt often drive says, you must learn to love your excrement.

Excrement is language of excess. Living on air. And there’s “nothing” else there.

Shimmers to a fault, with curiosity — evoking trauma, and the need to know!

Angela, without hesitation, frames as rain. Percipients. Drizzle, fog, outpourings.

Eviction and extortion. Rhythms of the negative.

Darkness demands its plowshare — horror infiltrates, vandalizes, implicates.

Someone on street yells : helplessness is attractive.

Angela stops in her tracks. And deliberates : how it is and how it isn’t.

Having after all, been down that “catch” — with fire (and a match).

Heartistically

Fire, back on fire.

Angela screams, with intention — fastidiousness is a relish. Dubious is a mother ship, tyrant.

Life boats, come up again come up again.

Glint of your life boats — sends Angela into litanies. Garbage, she exclaims, for a think tank wank, is a ton of invisible empties. Every one of them cherished — not just for its scheme. But flourish, and intensity.

Find a way find a way, drifts into firebombs.

Designates : an accordance with cocktails.

To browbeat panics, endear sanctimony, that can surpass negations of joy, also known as joy in the negative —

Angela decides once (and forever) — she must give in to all of it.

Create points of relation — climb onto the life boat — and breath breath breath.

Before ever going under again!?

Sinistrorse vertcul beacons in Angelas cockloft —

Her weaverbirds never fail to dream a way back in.

Flos de campi. Flowers and fiddle wood. The soul is divine because it exists as more than one thought —

Regroups, and defers. In a scurry of cycles.

Prompting a rake up of tectonic slips and intersecting crossovers.

Visits: 20