"Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere."
--G.K. Chesterton
"The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred.../Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as much as you."
--Walt Whitman
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According to the Buddha, right speech is a statement that is timely, true, kind, helpful (connected to liberation), and spoken with a mind of good-will. Let us all try to observe this precept.
"Conway", a prisoner at a supermax facility in central California who's serving 25-to-life under the state's three-strikes law for receiving stolen goods, has sent me some new poems that I share below. Writing materials are often scarce for him, so he composed these on the back of an official memo listing the rules for the Administrative Segregation unit (as I understand it, a variety of solitary confinement). Excerpts from that document are in italics below.
Stream of Thought
Take a step back, through the open door Slide a pace forward on this polished floor analyze the truth, judgments always do ineffectually, mendaciously for me and you.
Which shadow that falls, which court has set aside Censured from my youth, where folly used to ride springing out of the deepest roots revealed brought forth by the lies that truth concealed.
Is it candles on an altar, or sacrificial bread or some speculated monologue of what was said would thee that I banished a tenacious thought stagnating in the streams of screams they wrought...
****
1. Anytime you exit the cell you will be handcuffed and will exit backwards. 2. There are no warning shots. 3. You will assume the prone position when ordered by staff. 4. Showers are conducted on 3/w and are 5 minutes. You are allowed 1 pair boxer shorts, 1-towel, shower shoes and soap/shampoo. No shirt or socks. 5. Supplies are issued on 3/w every Friday. 6. Visiting is on Saturday and Sunday 1 hour behind glass. 1300-1400 hours. You must be in compliance with departmental grooming standards or the visit may be cancelled.
****
The Same Thing
These cracked stacked cages of ruin marching along in line, locked up keeping time this heart of stone I found was drowned begrudging every last sound... Still we fight this rock all night tossin-n-turnin like pages black & white I spied outside my window to be that window looked in on me; I asked the reflection "what do you see?" it did not answer me (how could it?) Those sands of time withstood it but an echo said the same thing, took away the sting...
****
12. No magazine, newspaper clipping are to be placed on any cell wall. You are allowed to place 2 pictures on the wall above the head area of your bunk. 13. No covering of the cell lights or door window. 14. Mail issue and pickup will be conducted on 3/w. 15. No cadence will be allowed when on the exercise yard.
**** Fly
Flies buzz around this room forever out of luck bouncing off the pane of glass not knowing they're stuck burn themselves out and expire on this windowsill I'd like to think I'll get out, but I know I never will
I'm lower than an insect, bouncing off the melted sand can see what I want but can't hold it in my hand I swear I almost see, the transparent wind blowing as time slides by, these midnight candles glowing
Check on my reflection something wise to recognize all I seem to realize I'm like those buzzing flies wings humming prolonging an avoidable fate I'd love to let-em out, but, I sweep-em up on a later date...
6/6/2007 1:50 PM
Alegria Imperial wrote:
Thanks for promptly sharing Conway's poems. I really love reading them. Each line, each image rings so true; not only does he transport his reader to his prison, he carries them with oh so dexterous wings to his flights from within without. Where some poets or would-be poets like me contend with at times lame realities, he seems to have cornered without meaning to the weightiest. You had asked in your publication of his first poems to read and see if these ring true; they always do. And by the way, that one-word which apparently summarizes your 'poetics' is what I had since held on to in reading and writing. Reply to this
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