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?