Originally posted 2/7/2013.

I give a sorrow
opening.  I
loose it on
a gap within. Soon come

ornery, tantrum, layabout and cry.
Going to victim this whole long day:
grow kudzu, a funeral bouquet
for neverending grief show.

Still, I got rocker hips,
roller hips, jazz groin and jazz lips:,
joy ends up somewhere
when pushed from head and heart.

Still, I end up one sad grinder.  
End up bad into more bad sinking,
but still with one way
to set it off and hold it back — and so,

on to music. Still in the hole, I give
my dance, my bad, my deep
some resistance. Rhythm’s a big mole digging in 
under the roots, a charged up winner

rubbling the dark; my earthly body
quakes cracking in the light.  Whenever
I, frightened, shake fear, I gotta dance
my dance, my bad, my deep — 

it’s my gotta happen.