Prison Project

Imagine a creature. Imagine that this creature is a master hunter. Imagine that it is fierce and proud, that it is cunning and patient, that it has the capacity to be roused to terrible fury but for the most part spends its days in a state of grand repose, placid, calm, reflective. Imagine this creature too is not only intelligent, canny and instilled with the wisdom of the ages but that it is also sleek, graceful in its every movement and beautiful in a way that only a exemplar of nature can be.

Technomancer’s Note: These two art pieces were submitted together so I thought they should be in the same page.

I applied for a job in the prison library (the sanctuary for many inmates). I jokingly asked if they did background checks. I got the job - I love my job! But it got me thinkin' What the heck am I gonna do for a living on the outs? “Ban the Box” my ass - this only delays the inevitable question. Felons can’t be cops or firemen or paramedics. I once was an Emergency Medical Technician.

Into the dark (i followed after my heart) Pain was the prescription from the start, with a constant fight (day and night) 2 bring my soul out the dark into the light. From the cotton fields (2 the killin fields) somethin bout us: made em’ fear/ hate / love our presence - captured our body (but not our essence), in a system taught falsehood & how 2 kill alongside an alphabet.

Books called it The Great Migration, but people aren’t birds Yet we fly in flocks and also remain lonesome doves So do crows and many of them equal a murder Birds of a feather, flock together And the worst of vultures kill us all little by little with each passing day With oppression and by smoke bombs, metal batons and O.C. Pepper spray The penitentiary is a place with fair weather friends

Today I will multiply my value A Hundredfold I will commit not the terrible crime of aiming to low. I will do the work that a failure will not do. I will always let my reach exceed my grasp. I will never be content with my performance in the market. I will always raise my goals as soon as they are attained. I will always strive to make the next hour better than this one I will always announce my goals to the world.

If I become overconfident, I will recall my failures. If I overindulge, I will think of past hungers. If I feel complacency, I will remember my competition. If I enjoy moments of greatness, I will remember moments of shame. If I feel all powerful, I will try to stop the wind. If I attain great wealth, I will remember one unfed mouth. If I become overly proud, I will remember a moment of weakness.

Getting darker And later unto the night. No one Would venture on The highway In the evening, By the great Blue mountains daylight comes very fast. restlessness And moving, During the day. It was then She picked up the Nearest telephone Spoke on The reciever patterns of her Voice recorded.

I read of man who stood to speak At the funeral of a friend. He referred to dates on her tombstone From the beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth And spoke of the following date with tears, But he said what mattered most of all Was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time That she spent alive on earth

My view is marred By iron bars But I cannot look away The sun is setting Time forgetting The loss of another day So here I sit In this haunted pit With freedom on my mind Lost in thought About happiness sought Something so hard to find I shake my head Lay down to bed In hopes of getting sleep Time to forget This haunted pit If not I’ll surely weep

the fire goes out the flame of once was ceases to be did she die or is she merely at rest? unbound from the need to consume, no longer fettered diffused throughout the cosmos that which once seemed to be never truly was what had once possibly been the alpha has become transformed. convoluted doubled over onto itself the nexus reached and passed consensual reality narrowed down, the fulcrum reaching a possible omega state

my self is shaped to better for her my beginning was benign vicissitudes of life arose red not metal in anvil hammered relentlessly over and over shaming Job isolated moments of contrived joy little substantive until god spoke and delivered her the light of my world darkness no longer sustains perdition forsaken threshold of paradise gained admittance, Deserved?

there is kindness and salvation in her smile a priceless gift that Christmas week it is radiant, shames the sun again and again she blessed me with the miracle she allowed me to behold for twenty-five minutes it got me out of bed on the hunt for one more benediction she is ambrosia nectar of the gods my thirst insatiable I would stand, lost enraptured in the moment longing for the next

I look into the mirror I see the Buddha looking back Tathagata looks and sees no one.