Unmanipulated Naïveté

" Unmanipulated Naïveté "

by Suzán Jiván
Mom & Mom-
Mom Suzán

Plan to be broadening
high-capacity clips
for the mentally ill
receiving gun magazines
from hand-gun licensees
as stubborn realities
in copper jackets


abraded by mishandled
shots in dark
scarred like pockmarked
bookmarks in gun catalogs


blown up and printed on paper
as mawkish yet opaque
code violations
of unmanipulated naïveté


considerably shady
eluding representation
of sacred spaces
for opalescent angels
on stained panes


radically altered
dementedly florid
sweater letters
as slangy hellos
for halos


laying one-pound eggs
bent on a bender
for formal defenses
of household helpers


rituals for many
off the pedestal
fielding questions
metastasized as resin


cast in cement
at the midsection
with the ironic intent
of a somewhat better
heart rending


like ennius
for roused ringleaders
with additional degrees of focusings
and deepening depths of field
for increasingly calligraphic
scarce eelgrasses



tilting inwardly
like reverse imagery
on delicate grids
of enervating spectacles
in flowery beds



within walking distance
of downhill car trips
as rafters and canoeists
of the near future
like superheroes
longing for solitude



as sweet blisses
for innocent
children beginning
to feel the pinches
from within


finally maybe
this is our brain
opened on Sundays
in imaginative stagings
boldly portrayed
as birthplaces
for the newly renovated



at the end of a plague
of menacing speed demons
oohing and aahing
while undulating on dots


ricocheting into space
with lurid language
and hypnotic monotony
dragged through the streets
singing eerily


embarking alive
as great improvisations
of driving through gates
in blue lanes shifting away
from alienating handicapped plates



backing out of the frame
aging backwards
in a sound stage kazoo playing
with the unnatural amplification
of model airplanes
with the calvary on the way



locked in a stifling embrace
and a slap in the face
by double basses
downing double martinis
coming out swinging
with nothing up our sleeves...