in the sanctity of sanity
is where I now aspire
as years
and my humanity
insist that I conspire
to find a hole
in vanity
and breathe what I inspire
until the words
drip from my veins
and sanctify this fire

There are those seasons
Of the life
That a happening unfolds
When a poets table turns
And
The life in the living
Is
An extended group of
Events
Each one
A profound poetic moment
Shaped of divinity and vibration

i wish
i were
bright star,

far away.

but i am
blight scar,
here and

now.

These masters of poetry
flood my mind
with rhymes
and pure
unaltered thought

truth
honesty
brutally at times
these master poets
dominate my mind

Changing who I am
what I see
in a small number of lines
When master poets words
take control of my mind

my body is a temple. --
but not for god or for you.
the hair it grows,
the winters it has spent shaking
the lies it tells me. --
all of this is mine.
your hands may touch my hands,
but they are not yours.
my body is a war. --
filled with roads for which i have no map,
and rivers that drown me again and again.