I never belonged to the barking hawkers.
They heralded my path to perdition.
Sufficient without their momentum-
Forgive me for seeking their permission
Even their affection.
What may be their mission,
Is an expression of my conformity
Overturning my design for
An infirmity of form
A painting over a painting.
I am not incorporated.
A single person from humble beginnings
Flailing in the freedom
Of expression, and service, trimming
The wicks of history
I am painted in
The broadest expression
Of human experience
And it is a transgression
To seek heightened, narrow pursuits
A tower, a city, a mantra.
I have walked the earth
In the barest of feet,
And in my poverty
I have dined with kings.
This is who I am
And it is dishonesty
To amble with troupes
When I am made to be me-
Small,
but distinct from the sea.
viewingcamelot 
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