but the reading
after all; I seem to not be able to get enough
and yet when I pick up pen to put to paper
what comes often
is gibberish
nonsensical spilling that ends up in the bin.
Perhaps that’s where it was always meant to be
in the end the words that pass through my mind
do travel to where they’re meant to rest
and when they journey through the end of my pen,
I’ll trust their job is done simply appearing in
blue ink.