I am determined mother bear
Clamping down on word counts
Chasing Elements of Style
In old book stores.
I am too creatie and naieve to know
Any better, blind Helen Keller of literature
Instantly intoxicated on the smell of print.
I am swimming in warm water,
Barely treading but bloating all the same –
Sleeping on it on my back, eyes shut.
No fear.
I am out of control
Tortured by the written word
And fully aware of the bloodjet.
I am Sylvia’s sister (or child)
Anxious to make black scribbles
On the blank page
Its’ blue lines tempting me
Like fancy shoes
I am a writer
Free! I am a writer. Me!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
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