Am I permitted to be primitive
I buy to live.
I take roots, compile them into dreams.
I ignite what thermoglides me into
syllabic recognition of my love to speak.
I set my words like craft idolatry
and worship light on bark beneath every absence of
So hungry sometimes I look back,
compare the feast of freedom
with why I need.
Am I allowed to let the shape of things uphold me?
Just the tune, the beat of things?
Can I be arrested for receding into sound/breath/prayer
thats all me
or am I there at all unless I buy/work/speak