Night. I draw in the darkness with one lamp over the table. I Collect words from the drawing and scramble them. There is a person there, tense all over. There is rain and blood and dirty green. I make a poem out of these, trusting the funny and loving energy of this strange universe to speak to me through this. It does. We speak together.
You figure it out…
Tension in the jaw
Blood moves in my veins
It is
Not me
If I loosen my grip
On things
Who will I be?
Do I have to scream
To find this
Out?
Do I have to tense
The muscles
In my jaw?
In the muddy rain
Life arises
From the bog.
intuitiveflow 
0 Responses to “188. You figure it out…”