On Poetry

Poems in pure form
transmit truth
in fragments – the
only way we are capable of knowing.

I am a dichotomy, of truth
I feel, yet place at a distance.

I accept my body
except my body which I deny
in part, being
genuine torment.

Poetry’s mirror is
reality, fluid in form
balanced on the
poise of perception

The poem is hastily scripted
captured from a source beyond depth
written to release the
collected contents of a stormy heart.

O Ultimate Shape
poetry takes form
to complete me
and leave me
still helpless.