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