Wednesday, September 1, 2010


Poetry flows from fountain pens,
Verses roll off the tips of bic ballpoints,
and stanzas feel their way from felt-tips.
Sonnets curl from quill nubs,
haiku paint themselves out of brushes,
and high school love notes are scratched away
with a number 2 pencil.

So why do my words run dry,
and I am left scribbling circles
with my tongue,
hoping some mark will appear
on my all-too-blank mind?

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