i decided i was a ball of clay

                                                                                             spherical temperamental

                                                                                             poetic

i was a thing to be held and not known 

a grid of interconnected variables 

saying, me, me, me, me, me

 

what goes around, goes around again 

pote/ port/ pot

soil a skyline scored in                                                     slip

there are so many ways to situate oneself as

vast sagging field                                                              giving shape

to

meshwork of soldered ideas cylinder

 

 

it doesn’t matter

and yet what you hand down, over, hand out 

is just one-way to live

 

in stressed and unstressed shifts i

am one edge away from disappearing

an expanding idea, a space where more space          is making space is

this sympathy vs. empathy?

 

 

such landslide

where is this all going?

all this                                                                                 orbiting round to become

                                                                                             a dinnerplate turned in 

                                                                                            on itself

I've been fighting a War Within Myself all my life,
Tired of the hurt, the pain, the strife.
Anger consumes me from day to day,
Cellies now walking on eggshells, unsure of what to say.
I do pray each night for the peace that I need in my heart,
I need it before I tear what friendships I have apart.
Prison has a funny way of doing some things,
Leaves me wondering what tomorrow may bring.
I'm tired of the hate, anger and pain that I feel,
I just want my heart and soul to be healed.
I want to be able to simply laugh at a joke,
I need someone to help me before I lose all hope.
My heart is almost completely hardened with what I've been through,
I need someone, anyone, maybe that someone is you.
I'm fighting a War Within Myself, and I'm so tired,
So nervous, scared, like I'm on a high tight wire.
I hope that I don't fall before someone catches me,
But then again... maybe it's my destiny.

one year, i carried the blues around

like a baby. sure, my coffee mugs cupped

amethysts :: water gushed, rose-tinted

and -scented, from the faucets at my touch ::

the air orange with butterflies that never

left me. meanwhile, indigo held fast

to my toes :: lapis lapped my fingertips ::

and a hue the shade of mermaid scales

bolted through my hair like lightning.

my eyelids drooped, fell, heavy with sky.

that year i carried the blues around

left me mean :: while indigo held fast,

the daily news tattooed azure to my back. 

true, festivals of lilies buoyed me. but what 

good could white do? the blues grow like

shadows in late sun :: stretch  creep  run.