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On Prison and Poetry

October 22, 2012

Another day, another hunger strike! So stupid and, in my opinion, those calling for the strike don’t even know what they’re doing this time. My cellmate and I have a small amount of food, but I’m hungry. This strike lasts through Monday (glad an end is set), and strike leaders are trying to be very strict.

I’m hoping to get my “bus ticket” out of the SHU soon. A bus left to SATF-Corcoran today. Those individuals had been waiting 2-6 months! Pray that misfortunate will not be mine as well! It sucks back here and I’m ready to actually begin my time in the general population. I’ve even been plotting it: yard will be two hours long. So I can run laps for 45 minutes, then do a variety of exercises (push-ups, pull-ups, chin-ups, back, arms) for another 30-45 minutes, then I can spend the last 30 minutes contemplating life, poetry, etc. Spending it this way, will be doing well for myself (only the Lord knows what that’s worth in here). I can do this the majority of the time — just to keep to myself and avoid the often prevalent drama. Also, I can play a game of basketball now and then. In cell, I can listen to my music and write during the day, read, watch TV at night. Sort of like here but better, because I’ll have a CD-player and a typewriter and some time for social activity, such as talking to others about subjects I consider relevant. Anyway, I hope the move happens soon, so this plan can materialize.

I really enjoy writing poetry, but sometimes feel I should start holding onto my poems longer — at least those I have a scintilla of doubt about, instead of convincing myself it’s fine. Too many times, I observe myself later trying to make a poem better that I’ve already submitted. A case in point is the poem “A Question Asked of Death.” I think I can end it better. Guess I’ll wait to see if it gets accepted as it is.


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