Pictures by Eric Nunnally


I am more than this
More than a slave of convention
Toiling against time
To sustain who?
To produce what?
Chasing illusory enjoyments
To make bearable my sentence.

I would tear through this flesh
And free myself of its basic understandings
- if I could keep out the noise of powers and principles;
I could soldier my gifts
My talents
And carve a sanctuary in this mountain.

The wind blows
And heartbeats follow rhythms set for them
And I know that all the ants in the world
Cannot stop the elements from washing away the hill…

So I see the so-called kings
And the fools who serve them
And stand away
Embracing the wisdom of my poverty;

I return to nothing
And become everything
Still looking for someone to talk to…

June 25, 2004

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