I rest in the crossed-fixed arrows that point
in two Directions across my back.
Like the legs of my mother
I rest in the crossed-fixed arrows that point
in two Directions across my back.
Like the legs of my mother
A POEM ABOUT UNDERSTANDING THE UNDERSTANDING OF UNDERSTANDING.
I was a poet before I was a writer of many kinds of formats. I didn’t like it at first but later I got the hang of it. I read a lot of scriptures and books and whatever I liked I rewrote so I could get into the rhythm that the writer was in. Returning to poetry reminds me of my youth and it really gets what’s going on in my head on paper easier.
“I was feeling something that I’ve never felt while in my dreams … The skin peeled slowly off … And when I woke up I found myself scratching my hand …”