yogi tears
and the sound of ujaii breath
conferring ecstatic silence
behind prison walls
that smell like home
and maybe urine
to practice
and preach
human connection
taking up my own cross
embracing my own
incarnation
asana led in the halfway house
only to find
the weekend sluts
and the greedy druggie
look like me
mirror gazing
at the inner
criminal
the one jesus loved
so they sit
in lotus
all satisfied
a woman
chin in hand
she knows more than she'll ever understand
getting high, drunk and horny
each night
it's the same
and each morning we salute the sun
praying to a god
who might crucify our minds
and prostitute our loss
making us weak
with repetition
and a fistful of
mercy
addicted
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