Bouncing Ball

She’s a yogi—unadvertised; and her life is double. So many
Parts; and so many scenes; and pain drives a soul. I closed a
Grove; and sought the sea: if only to set sail. I’m partial this
Way; and mystic that way; and never these tears; and never

This joy; and we move a current; and we soar a thought. I’m
Somewhat blind; and somewhat callous; and somewhat hurt.
I pardon mother, and hold a grudge; and vote the good; and
Claim the Blood. I caused a scar; and sought a war; and still,

The life—a shield and spear. We’ll not part bread, and smile
The freedom; and never that way; and never this way. Our only
Way: a tent of thorns; for something lived; and something
Died; and class to class—a shattered sky; and broken glass, a
Haggard fleece; and acid rain, a nurtured beast; and soul to 
Mind, a sophic wall; and mind to soul, a bouncing ball.