the door is no longer open

so, how can we continue to write

this properly poised pen and I

the entrancing vision becomes blurred

while the page seems to shy away from

my too eager hand

the hot blankness in my mind

speaks to me

but so softly now that angels would have to

lean closer to hear

and I and my pen claim to be a poet


disenchanted jest rides my sunken shoulders

as of late

'til I am laughing at myself enforced dilemma

so transparent is the spirit behind the mutual


care to help me now dear pen?

ah, just as I thought

you see the wall too

even in darkness

like me

now, let us together climb

do not worry though

dear weathered friend

for the painter of words

has only stopped to pause

for a breath..................

(Sept. 6, 1994 pm)

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