Pacific

The flow within my brain I cannot dam;
It rushes like a river to the sea.
It is a central part of who I am,
And will be so to him whom I will be.
I write these poems in my misery,
And in my joy they also will appear;
When I feel light I write parodically,
When deep and dark, my poems make it clear.
Nor do they simply mirror what I fear
Or hope; they pour from me in endless waves
On every topic at all times. I peer
At them as from the shore their ocean laves
And see past the horizon a great flow, a
Mighty ocean; I am its Balboa.