There was a time when
I loved to watch my pen
Dispense ink onto
Smooth paper
Lovely curves
Curls of my words
Silent speak for
Able eyes to sweep over
To discover
My lust and wonder
Quiet scratching
Of a pencil
Gesturing toward pain
Disappointment
And the usual sorrows
That
Through the years
Have come to pass
The page stands
Yet a mystery
In the hands
That created it
A chance to become
My own confidante
In an arena overflowing
With heroes far more
Virile
once
Quill is in hand
An ability to
Tear apart language
So it means nothing
Momentairily
Then reveals everything
Words then become
The loyalist of friends
And skilled precise lovers
I have known these things
All of my life
Even when pretending
To know nothing
My words swam
Like sperm searching
For a fertile
Nesting place
Transforming into life
No literature
No matter how read
Or praised
Will ever stand
Breathe
Bleed
Cry
Scream
Or run
To it�s destiny
My heart can
So I will
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