as you read

transposed from my dying notebook



"As I Write"


Pen sweeps itself on paper
every stroke leaving a black curl
of letters and then words
sentences surprisingly appear
casual and strung together
by structure and meaning
slowly it rains down the page
this expanding passage
of black strokes and curls
oh! thou shall not use the same words again
but rebellious this pen forges its way
from left to right
and then from top to bottom
It is a clear canvas no more
this page is marked and tattooed
painted and sculptured
into a bad excuse for a poem
but a good reason to write