Saturday, September 14, 2013

Doubting my Lines.

I often wonder why the erasers on pencils are so small
The graphite scratches wrong
(was it me?)
a misplaced line infinitely long.
and I turn the pencil over in apprehension
(of what you ask?)
the thing I can barely bear to mention.
That my eraser is fading slowly
(will it be there next?)
and the thing that makes things holy,
perfect in fact,
(are they perfect after it truly?)
but the paper is cracked.
Lines etched in doubt.
and a fading eraser.




-

Our desert (haiku)

I look through photos Our life through the four seasons Back through the old ones.  Blossoming in spring With all the diverse flowers ...

  • Pen to Paper
    There is ink in my pen And I'm pretty sure If I put it to the page It would come out, Creating some sort of mark On the blank pages. Of ...
  • The Rain
    The humble drops of water Fall from the furthest reach Onto modern art in the garden: Flushing the angles of the sculpture Of the gum wr...
  • Late
    When I said I'm scared that was an understatement. When I'm too blind to see things when they happen And too used to second chance...