Sleeping on a Ham Hock

- All of existence in my feet and the tip of my finger...

People unknowingly spit poetry at me all the time.
What about us who ache for poetry in our bones...
We need to be fed.

What about us who hear jazz in every sound...
What about us who hear God...
Poetry abound...
We need to be fed.

What about us who dance for the sake of dance
for the sake of poetry for the sake of necessity...
Because we cannot help but dance...
We need to be fed.

What about this cry for celebration...
Cry for celebration of gifts
we cannot help but use...
We need to share...
We cannot hide it...
We need to be fed.

To all lovers in hiding...
We need to be fed.

Don't hide the food you've been growing in your soul...
We are hungry here.

Be aware of the time for harvest...
The time is near...
Near to breath...
Closer than a heartbeat.
The time is here...
The time is you.

This is what I'm given stomach for...