Furious joy from words returned in silent line
shy, unjustified yet endeared for experience kind
in spite of lies: history potentated, and distance-
now made immaterial by passion blooming
soon to fruit and spread seed through world
and human mental webs: God: a force levered by
a slender branch my sophomoric instigation grafted
held for life, mind, joy, growth and final answer to
a weary, endless seeking carried from youth distant
fulfillment unexpected yet foreseen in stories gathered
by a rare and righteous Lark.
James Aaron Hughes is bored.
He has been writing advertisements for sink manufacturers for a while now, and feels somewhat unrewarded by this. He relaxes the angst formed from the sinks by making verses that taste like knock-off Kayyam /Fitzgerald, and wishing his beautiful, genius, amazing, perfect angel of a girlfriend would have more sex with him. His time remaining is used offering himself as labor to godlike corporations, but they are already quite well stocked in bitches, thank you.
