by the wayside
of a swamp

in the bottom
of the earth

inside
the soul
of a starving
lion

on top
of a jagged
cliff

hanging on
with my
sore tongue
stuck
to the moon

over a cloud
shaped
like
fangs
digging
into
the back
of god

inside
a fire
in the
castle
of evvil

swimming
in the bloood
dripping
from
a hype

my eyes
on the blade
of a knife

looking
towards
a wooden
splintered
casket

before
a dropped
body
from heaven

I dream
of angels
in heat

I whisper
a scream
into my
crowded
soul

I sing
hymns
of a
spinning
choir
on the
wheels
of a torn
eternity

and then
I write

and boy can u write

and I can only cry
only laugh
in silence
in awe of
likeness and image
creation
distinctly the same,
and not
a river cannot flow
the same
as this heart's power

ok the secret of creating matter out of nothing is to project a thought in its midst... if its two thoughts then the point @ which they cross within nothing then becomes subject matter... is it or isnt it.....

that's a great way to describe creation. i think, poetry, on what you said, should come more from subconscious thoutghts then conscious. i almost want to say, try to write poetry without thinking, not literally true, but you know what I mean.
Keep writing. That's one of the best sentences on creating that i've read.

peace
Jimmy

Exceptional Jimmy!!