How I Do It
On the wall beside me, the Jungian circle
of characters masking-taped
so when I'm in the midst
of a poem
confused,
a pinch
panicked
as I am now
I have a wheel
with names
of who might be
taking center stage: sage
jester hero innocent lover everyman
To myself I say, who is this speaking? Are you
an outlaw craving an upset
because of too much stillness? Well I can
add a wind
to burn the skin of a man
in a snow storm aching
to be free of his crackle parents
who have asked him
to have kids. Get off my back!
he screams and runs into the sun
grasping the hand of his woman
who is less sure than he
and glances over
her shoulder
seeking the parents'
eyes to make sure they know she knows
she’s sorry
yess, thank you for this BTS
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