perpetually drafting
and not in the sense
that I am closing following
the formerly fenced in
front runners or fore fathers
of excellent examples
but more in the sense
that I am simply sampling
the works of many others
without either of us knowing
from where it is I'm coming
and where this thing is going
this lead will scrape this paper
and it will not bleed a word
I will keep erasing it
I will create new blankness
a whiter white
a deeper abyss
an emptier empty
This stick bleeds decision
an extension of my hand
it speaks of just precision
of stained glass made of sand
of beauty from the masses
of expression of deeper words
intimate and personal
and permanent and versatile
etched in stone with blood and honor
saved in folders
for sons
for daughters
I am proud of this
I will frame it soon
I will sign my name on the front and back
I am sure
and the page is full
a vastness
an accomplishment
a vista
gazed upon by but one man
I prefer typing, honestly.
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