I awoke this morning
a poem flowing out of me
taking me from dreamland to morning light
An acknowledgement of all the Shadows
and the rightness of all the things I hide
A poem that wouldn’t end
because everything is part of it
A poem I couldn’t share, wouldn’t dare
for fear no one could understand but me.
A cat nuzzled me awake
Odor of an acrid litterbox
Before my feet touched the floor,
I am the poem I dreamed,
My life is the poem
written not for forty-seven years
But written from the first breath
the first body I owned.
Now there are billions
as much me as I am
living life in different circumstances
As I live life in mine.
All rage is mine, all love is mine,
all indifference and confusion mine.
I somersault naked off of water buffaloes behind the Taj Mahal,
And in Norfolk share the laughter.
I’m not alive