Another Suburban Drive-By

And how may I utter my sentiments without evincing elephants?  Will I stumble at the chance to untap my lit soul(that’s fit to blow!)?  At night I scrutinize my subject with a microscope’s precision... I loll over the unspeakable for a while in a reverent daze... under what moon did I set off the shiver of those two new moons?  And when was I so exorbitantly sunk in that light, like a boat in a gale, like a star on a mission to seize it all(on account of an irreversible flash—its jetting extinction)... that the ground fell away like the drop of a coarse shawl?  Nothing left but clouds clotting a knit sky... and I remember the key signature of those shapely words unfolding through the screen (almost hoarse the timbre was so deep)… the flit of my mind rowing restlessly towards the sun, or a blossom that showed whitening—it was a picture of time taken right from life... not as citrusy as a still-life devoid of all gesture, but a full-fledged 35mm running across a single snapshot... a glow—alive as anything... sipping the air of all its strength... singeing an impression right into my poor brain... but, suddenly it was gone!  the moment building cities in my mind... was it even there?  The essence of joy paused in perpetuity... but moving in its borders and breathing like a jellyfish…  was there really rapture and bliss?  Am I madder than a mood-junkie?  Either the image was there in my hand or the heaven was plucked right out of some dream... and if it was dreamt, did I make that reverie?  Or are you really thinking this as you fly over the poem with eyeballs cocked, hammer ready to snap like a piston, like a drive-by shooter, aiming for the vulnerability and verbosity of my haunted soul?  If so… Be merciful!  Be brave!  go for the heart...