Cataloging the Detritus of my Life
You like dogs?
Did your dog sleep
on your bed?
I don’t have a
dog.
Mother didn’t allow
dogs.
Mother’s angry
Terribly, terribly
Hurt.
Her mind can’t
Shape human
Speech at all.
Bright except
Defective. A
Genius in [her]
Own line…
Can you imagine?
Huh?
I can’t.
‘This’ is the first
Word of the
Rest of my
Life.
‘No,’ that is the
First word of the
Rest of my
Life.
Every word
Not leading
To the next.
None getting
Me any
closer to
Resolution.
Taking up
Clay
was the
greatest
sin
to Gnostics
Creation Isn’t a
celebration
of life,
it’s a cage.
a prison
for the
Celestial
spark
Trapped in
dull, earthen
vessels
divine sparks,
Of the Unity,
Disunified.
Separated.
Imperfected.
Not by
act but
through the
medium.
The urge
to create
is not a
gift, but a
curse.
Not a calling,
but a
temptation.