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Beneath the still surface of a closely guarded secret, the argument of a biography came to remain a mystery. The time has come to dispel the myth of disappointment in love, of giving up on life. All these lights to show the way, no traps, no lies. Open eyes. The feud of fools unprofound. Eating their way through the blueprints of legends. As if come to drown us, a mandrake mistake. All these perfect places locked with broken keys, buried under miles of money. It could be a loaded gun lip-lock. Arresting the invisible archery, arrows shot into the volcano. Exploding from widely spaced eyes, the revival of refusals. The apologies of nerve power, creatures indescribable in an increasing divide. All these avalanche armies pouring down our own arms. Bevies of borrowed barnacles building themselves new ways to breathe. As if catacombs could come clean from what they’ve seen. Now the soul’s superior instants are missing intents. All the ways to simulate the stinging, belie the bringing, forget the ringing of broken bells. Now earthquakes torch the tails of snakes with undulating faith. Our own fruit falls from trees we could never reach. Slight swerves, small slants, the way the body shakes untold. Hard to put the current back, easier to divert the flood. Persuasive grace laced with a taste of black.
