Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Sitting Still

Burning dead pages
The rusty barrel steams
And smokes
Inky smoke
From dead pages
Written in a simpler time
By a simpler mind
Now morning sun illuminates
The flying bits of ash
Still bearing faint imprints
Of text
But never read
By another

I’m still sitting
New words swirling
Beneath a blanket of desires
Clamoring for a chance
To audition
To sit in inky stillness
On a dead page
For the burn barrel

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