Is this book determining the
Length and breadth of my poem
Is the inner dimensions of my kiln
Pre directing the height and width of
My pot
Is my house compressing
Horizontally and vertically
My very self
My creativity crushed in
The car crusher of
This council house?
Or can I transcend book, kiln, and house
To
allow my creative potential to
wander
the page,
the pot created in sections to
outgrow the kiln,
My spirit to expand,
to rise like a hot air balloon
Out
of the maze of my own
Obstacles.
obscl
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