The Algebra of Self-Exclusion

where are You in my time of need
for inspiration
or was it out
of desperation
You fled out
       bled out
onto pages upon pages upon pages upon pages in
so many marks many marks many marks many marks in
so many words
that I could never quite
what I mean to say is
what were You saying?
over time
the jagged waters
of the Nooksack
make broken stones
seem smooth and
cuts away
with time
takes farmlands
takes trees
and all
the poor children
tragedy is comedy’s former self
the way out is through
the tear-shaped developments
illuminated by
flashing red and blue
with all-seeing cameras
and chain-link fences with no purpose
but to remind us all
where are boundaries are.
The wings of an eagle atop
the totem pole silhouette
follow me some distance
as I walk into the night
leaving the sound
of softly broken glass
and tar-stained dreams
cooking in shallow ditches
pale moon light
spills through
broken clouds
pregnant with tears
as I walk back home
with many lost years
the walk is dark
the light is pale and
swallowed up by trees
leaving little to guide me
but the straight white line
under my feet
still don’t know where I am going
a sip of this
a hit of that
drowning out the anger
as well as the sorrow
calm in the present
not knowing about tomorrow
with too many yesterdays
left to resent
so I left the circle
or the circle left me
but no longer blind to the fact
that I wasn’t me
but free?
a concept foreign to me
3/4 not good enough
1/4 a wild savage
split into
2 spirits
maybe many more
what does it all mean?
I leave to pawing cats
and sniffing dogs
to ascertain
the true meaning of
0^2=1Taken from a Poetry class term portfolio (slightly edited),
“An Unaccustomed Bouquet of Pennyroyal”
J.S. Cline 2013 March 19 

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