Making me

Something has been going on with my blog. I can't access it anymore without having to put www. in front of my name. Now, I told Lori about it and she said nothing has changed for her. She can still access it just the same. I came to realize that this 'glitch' is manifesting to me, only me. When I try to bring it up the old way, which is without putting World Wide Web in front, someone else's blog comes up with my name on it. This person is in Afghanistan and seems to have inside information about what's really going on down there. When I read that "imposter's" blog, it talks about an infamous terrorist that had been assassinated and the United States is taking the credit for it while it was the Philippine’s that achieved this victory.

Now if this is happening to only me, on my hollodeck, I look at it and try to figure out what this could be about because it is bringing up some annoyance and a sense of fear. A fear that some else out there is using my poetry in a way I would not want them to. What is this emotion about? How much should I share my most sincere and precious thoughts, because these poems are what I am, they are the most authentic representation of my true self. I value them, I feel like I want to protect them. But if after I create them, they are themselves little autopoetic systems that have a life of there own, I don't own them anymore, just like I don't own my son.... He is a child of men. What is this about? Still some thoughts around “product and process”. Once it's a product, it belongs to the past; therefore, it's no longer relevant to my Now. My lower jaw hurts. I breathe. And now it's moving to the back of my throat. Breathe...

I am alone
I am myself in this
universe
I am all that I have.

This feeling of standing
still is destabilizing
I see you, so well
Who should I tell?

What should I make you?
You are the pupil of my earth,
I want to hold you, keep you safe
I love you so much

breathe

I will meet you there
I want to make you
Make you
Make me.

Make me...