Sweet things

 

Sweet things

Sweet things

That white enclosing space

An infinity of shelter

A blind default

Will sometimes mock me

Make faces

When I am inert

 

But, forced ink

Makes a stain

And issues to reason

On the unthinkable blankness

That a naked page offers

In all its’ purity

 

Somehow stretched sinews

Inveigle the tangled thoughts

To draw shapes

That other minds may interpret

And, so, striking a languorous pose

Assume the sweet essence as their own