Candor may have indeed arrived,
after years of mistrust,
persisting on my part,
as to what exactly it is.

Above the water, I have loved so much
that is unbearable to divulge

any method of explanation that's unmediated.
Of candor in the grass,
feelings can disqualify future feelings.
It's the sun now, or it's the landscape
or the jaunts in the park.
I had wanted more and was slapped in the face.
So here I am, in response to excess,
a juvenile high on Marxism,
a false and reconstructed
humanist, and even if Marxism is passé,

I lasted this long on other misguided ideas.
Onward to careless valentines, situational and loveless
hysteria, mismatched enthusiasm with a bare ankle entwined.
Moreover, whatever passes by, whatever we jerk our bodies for,
collapsing down from the branches,
we look up, here, a modern tree, blustering, agile, and ambitious.