pulling at my navel
unravels my stomach
spilled guts shoved
your direction recklessly
tucked back in me quickly
enough, but
left behind
a bur
that caught
your idea &
tangled, snagged in your
gossamer genius, plucked
until a seed can be
salvaged, made anew
without my threads.
Or I Give Myself Very Good Advice, But I Very Seldom Follow It. Echo lives in a basement apartment, walls softened with photos, posters and paintings--but only one of him, out of the way by the linen
Start with putting your ego on a longer leash; you can't let it go entirely--why write if not to tell yourself about yourself--but it mostly just gets in the way of getting anything done. Next, write.
The only mine I've ever known has been hard-fought, hard-won, all bloody knuckles and broken ribs, all set shoulders and subtle sneer-- won't take no for an answer, defiance the only way I know. It's