beyond the air, & what exceeds what is seen
as if we all need Bausch & Lomb? Visual scare.
Have you ever heard the sound of shivering weights,
or shivering waits, of those that mumble 'neath their
breath at the tipping point, breast fuming like
a motor-mouth’d cueball without an open-end
to enter, or the unifying of a dodderer’s confusing
assurance that "sets the eyes" like the way
one would set a table? Who would have known
that the porch is presenting itself as a welcoming
target. Bless my heart! Bless yers. Bless years.
Old bodies as confused as war-bombs, today
feels like regiments, a training of the mind,
or of a body, like floating ballerinas, or the
shaped-dimensions of athletic cheerleaders that
suddenly fall & bump their knees. Mark Twain
is the prince of the air. One day I will again be
an American. One day the fields will not have to
sigh. One day Circumstance will be lead into a
gliding Luminescence. My legs 'shuffle' like
Porfyrius, or the language in a Shakespearian text
of which charms & makes one yearn.