See, it is my neck, throbbing, tingling damning
Into shoulders, tongue, not eyes, even teeth, incisors
They my eyes see, again, they see more, more, I look on
Into space as Oh let lose another, day release for my Pearl,
Into Pound of fat from body, not my brain of neurons which
Sit on top my shoulders with memory, antiquity of reason,
Nothing remains in another land, Oh Jerusalem, that pain!
Let loose like cannon into heaven, all fallen, gone into hell
Angles fell, Lucifer first jumped overboard, never found
Bottom, bottomless, Second? Who was second among fallen
Angles? Why, it was pain, pain, pain, was second in condemned,
See, there is more than pain, that beauty, truth, wisdom,
Oh, poet laurel given all who write, that shiner into compassion
Flying high of thought of beautiful image, metaphor connecting
Above this day, this night, this in between, this flight of doves,
Especially morning, when I sit like Shikantaza, sit lasting,
Yet all meditation class, teacher, I come to write story in verse
Fallen angle pain gone for five hours, so I use my twelve
Pound thinking device no computer could ever touch twice
Ever touch, no grace in circuit board, stamped, printed without
Design engineering into mock ceramic board, no compassion
However, head, my idea maker, “my create a poem,” thoughtfulness
More than every day, poetry lives in my ferocious mind before
Lead wires, soldered into wordsmith rhyme, organic poetry lives
On into night, Lucifer never knew, or know or, pain, defeated,
Cannot Rejoice– Night of celebration, delight, of course, in dance
Word compassion, so dare we have compassion, on to vibrant
Life for Lucifer, angle of light, the beautiful felt only envy?
OR pain, second in control, only throb, no, neither bound to me
Not One has me, I am free in poetry, I am free, I’m free.
