This one (not really a poem I suppose) is pretty personal. (I was back and forth on posting it, as it’s sorta long AND it’s totally about my own journey. But I thought it might have connections with some of y’all, and I frankly just like it … so I decided yes.) It’s about shame and art and identity and neurological integration and my own fragmentation and how writing poetry is helping change my life. The title refers to Psalm 133. Benjamin means “son of the right hand,” therefore left brain, with Lefty then of course being right brain.
Oh, hopefully both columns are visible on a mobile device by selecting it and scrolling, but if not, I put it in two columns below this one.
And in two columns if you can’t read it as above…
