What shall I do with the rest of my little life?
It elludes me –
frustrates the juices in my belly
and keeps me in the stench of struggle.
Am I STILL stuck in the birth canal?
Perhaps the creative seeds need a voice,
finally vibrating them out into the field of life.
Screaming is not very beautiful
but sometimes it is the only embodied voice available
when the fiscal appears more essential than the essence of soul.