I shake over the misery with a blunted pencil
charred by from my gnawing, it breaks under the pressure
the lead bleeds over my thoughts and onto the page
there it stays while I sway in the hurricane
a vortex of vermin

the dryness of the egg shelled paper
gauzes the despair that is
replenished from the broken pencil

I sharpen the splintered tip from
the caverns, the jagged rocks, of
my bewilderments in trying to make
sense

look, listen, learn
that is what the lead is for

to gather, to communicate,
to inspire
sympathy of those who mourn

06/12/2009

Posted on 06/12/2009
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