My soul has barbs…
it does not glisten smooth
for it has threads…and latches
to my being hoop.
With no spider avarice to
spin nourishment from air,
it sieves existence from
all music passing by.
My soul is blind…
it reels invisible from
a time space spool.
Without sighting percept
it intuits its own is.
My soul is…mine.
It binds me into life
with intrinsic fusion
identical to fire.
Bonnie Marshall
Sculpture by Maud Cotter
Proem... 
… like velcro; I’m not QUITE sure of the connection but a quote from Rumi I glanced when I was reading round the blogs just snagged in my mind having read your piece: http://smallactofkindness.wordpress.com/2014/07/19/o-seeker-these-thoughts-have-such-power-over-you-from-nothing-you-become-sad-from-nothing-you-become-happy-rumi/
I’m deeply appreciative for your words. Smile.
first to last … last to first …. center to each first or last
each reading a cellular event rooting finely in ash
Blew me away…….Bonnie!
I treasure your beautiful comments, dear Jana.
A wonderfully thoughtful and clebratory poem Bonnie. >KB
That you would think so is very important to me, KB. Thanks!
Bonnie I can’t find any finer words to say than what has already been commented. Wonderful.
Then…I am very, very grateful and appreciate your kindness of a comment. Smiles.
Not sure how I missed this one, Bonnie: “my being hoop” — nice play between noun and adjective in that hoop, and of course “sieves existence” … wonderful. Minds me of Whitman’s, “the impalpable sustenance of me from all things at times of the day.” Suggests also to me soul as third category, between body and spirit-body; the home of an ingrown “own is.” Does it intuit the world, also? Bet the poem lives beyond these proto-systems of mine. Great work.
Your proto-systems are spot on, Ward. Thoughtful and giving comment, dear friend.