Squeezed Grey

I lob my own entrails
without consequence or accountability,
as if they are profound,
as if they aren’t useless,
as if they are art.

Squandering breath has become
a hobby and a habit.
Each breath measures part
of a poem that will never be born.
Is it birth control or abortion?

Impatience fosters itself.
If I am part of the Buddha’s river,
I am part of balancing the flow,
I am where white meets black,
I am the grey intersection of absolutes.

grey swirl

grey buddha

(top: ianfitter.com; Buddha: balihand.com)

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Absolutes, Art, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Squeezed Grey

  1. Heather Cai says:

    Definitely loves the tone and the voice–strong and compelling…

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