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