The poem

Perched to pounce

on the sheet white page

Ink propels itself

infinite as adrenaline 

from fingertips

feeling for details

Not saying

what was a thought

before

Another word placed

Itself

to getting somewhere closer 

needing a 

tangible witness

to guide.

Painting by August Macke c. 1910, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Expansion

Moving forward, at the end of the day, and these clichés

were left to remind us what sounds about right,

in-sight-fully (don't look back).

As though we could help it, we were not made

this way, a head, not eating tails of our time.

Before you ask-did I know about this

I have said this before, a little bit of chaos

does so much more for creation, inflation

and more. There is (much) more,

After all, 'A few people laughed, a few people cried',

I hope you lived in an interesting time-

Most were silent and simply watched the wax melt

down the ink dark sky making white caps on mountains.

It is best to listen for the ring mascons make,

since echoes don't travel well without gravity’s hold.

Calling your attention to small matters like the moon

making our weight

neon light, a flashing Open sign.

By NASA/ESA/JHU/R.Sankrit & W.Blair [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 
"On October 9, 1604, sky watchers -- including astronomer Johannes Kepler, spotted a "new star" in the western sky, rivaling the brilliance of nearby planets. "Kepler's supernova" was the last exploding supernova seen in our Milky Way galaxy. Observers used only their eyes to study it, because the telescope had not yet been invented. Now, astronomers have utilized NASA's three Great Observatories to analyze the supernova remnant in infrared, optical and X-ray light."

Oh-Neg

Leeching was done to draw out the bad blood.
And miraculously, we could be
drained nearly completely
while still
denying death
with the proper tools.

In precise implements like these;
pens and needles,
probe and penetrate
the surface, thus
it is most succinctly the human touch
that feels
a pulsing flow of ink
throbbing at the tips, and a
rush and steady flow
that gushes, drips and runs on
to remind
the patient
how to heal a hemorrhaging
or from a tainted transfusion of bad blood.




Image by Abraham Janssens [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A (One) Way with Words

Bang my head on the keyboard
or Edit, and it's still not there.
Stab myself with a pen-
blood doesn't flow like ink.
I'm not going deep enough.
Wrestle with words and choices,
so many I swoon, dizzy with dialect.
Research always interrupts, conniving
cuts the line midsentence.
Doubt-well, you know.
If I stop all together it's too much.
If I let go completely it's too much
evasive etymology
and not just the words that wander...
I'm led all over elsewheres, other places
by memories, imagery, crap-aphony noise
vying for my prompt attention!

And then, when I push hard enough
to leave a mark.
By means of suffocation,
I can feel the pulse intensity.
The louder the heart beats the page
blue and red
and when it's read
I know my fear shows
how I really feel
as I instead tell you
taking my final breath
choking on my ink.
Finally, dead and gone,
without ever leaving a mark.




Image of painting by Henry Wallis [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, 1856.