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fickle white paper
seduces my spirit
excites my senses
absorbs my passion
and taunts...my impotent
moments
when the pencil strikes the pad
that thin smear of graphite
charts the distance
between me...and...reality
traces darken
with frustration
line after line
like piano strings
the words hammer out pain
fear and glory
in tune
out of time
don’t think
the effort dies fruitless
part of my life
just entered your soul
now i live on…
roll over Bram Stoker
Great Lakes, Illinois
‘84
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