Monday, March 7, 2016

All graphite, and carbon black



What softer voice, hushed
Over the bony cage
Playing flute by its dead end

Memories are lured away
Into the crowded skies
To shovel its next space

A Requiem to repose
The dead of nether land; and
A blink of spreading silence

Take hammer of thy fist
And nurture your nerve
Commanding respect in stones

I know the writings of pen,
The tab and the touch screen;
All graphite, and carbon black

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