there are beautiful beach wanderings
bits of fragments
but of the ugly animal inside
all flesh and writhing construct

someone sent me a line from Kerouac
"somewhere along the line the pearl
would be handed to me"

Ive removed the top portion of this comment
for two reasons
First the pearl is made within a shell and must
be removed to find a pearl
and two the pearl is a shell conversion
to remove the shell of a pearl is to find the
grit
Like the partical of dust in a snowflakes symetry

Writers writing of the eternal struggle within and
without crafting beauty as all and both
The final work the shell conversion
the poetry itself a shell
a construct

Jennifer James got me thinking here
on this
the Poet outside the shell

or When we come from the forest to cross
the frozen lake..the field

I loved the works written by people who loved
the desert and the north
nomads living beneath the harsh and formidable
beauty of the sky

and the american writers caught in the day to
day of flow in the canyon walls of their cities

desolation as a shell
the intense wall pressed against
our sides in steps

the works within and out

College course and the old english teachers
used to ponder our youthful minds to try to
think outside the norm for expressionism

and sometimes the only way to put all this
together is to form it within the confines
of space..create it in its shell

like minatures
ships in bottles
the things beneath the glass
full of potent symbolism and
beauty

but its natural to want to take them
out and examine them

show rooms are given this
we want to free them
the liberation

and expansion rather then
expulsion

interesting thoughts today
from this old poet

Thank You Jennifer!