Wrought I am formed around other thoughts than myOwn. Thin tea poured into thick china. SmokeRisen from what has been burnt. A balloon.An imprint. The books I have read. Ads IHave seen. What somebody said when they spokeOf love. Of hate. In a movie. A tuneCreated from pins set in a patternOn a cylinder I neither conceived Of or built. Or could. I am negative Space. I contain legions. A reflectionI did not initiate. I received.I am so carefully derivative There is no way, no test, to mark if thoughtOriginates or enters. I am wrought. Juleigh Howard-Hobson’s poetry has appeared in The Comstock Review, Noir Nation, L'Éphémère, Able Muse, The Lyric, Weaving The Terrain (Dos Gatos), Poem Revised (Marion Street), Birds Fall Silent in the Mechanical Sea (Great Weather for Media), Lift Every Voice (Kissing Dynamite), and other venues. A Million Writers Award "Notable Story" writer, nominations include “Best of the Net”, The Pushcart Prize and The Rhysling Award. She lives off grid in the Pacific Northwest next to a huge woods filled with interesting shadows and curious ghosts.