Thursday, April 15, 2010

Flowers (and Other Escape Routes)

How does one leave ones vessel?
He said I have no vessels
And this is what irregular looks like
Ah, I’m down.

Sometimes leaving requires
A vacating of spirit
With a bright red exit sign
And dripping finger stems.

Some folk take a mind vacation
And come back down
Reminded of their perch on the ceiling
As they looked below at themselves

(This makes things seem smaller than they feel)

Sunnyside up
They cook me before I can break my shell
And see what this is all about
And grow meaty legs or drumsticks

But all that’s real is here, bricks and mortar
So I just have to get taller
Break the ground as I squirm upward

Though I’d sometimes rather stay weak and green,

I have to feel this.

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