Guts (a poem just now. read when ready)

Guts

I went to get my bearings, hang-ups risen by degrees

and the polished sky perfectfully breakable as fine china,

releasing a deep knawing of being, undelivered again,

and getting out, really getting it all out, without delay.

Everyone could no longer handle a trying at open spaces,

demanding a curb to excessives, a sign to obey, and a 

mind to stop thinking, stop ticking, stop charming.

I'll slip.  Falling is easy when you've stood too long

for something, throwing shadows and dead limbs.

I take it double with a condition.  Triple with a heart.

Alright, that's all I have to say.  I've always been loud.

s.grutz