So many unwritten lines
over such an expanse
The thoughts have flooded,
roiling and pounding like
the images bright and vivid
pale and diffused
The transition to a keyboard
For journaling my thoughts, poetry and dreams
Never successfully negotiated.
The ink flowing from the scratching penpoint
even if aided by the rolling ball tip
is a lubricant to my awareness...
The thoughts tumble as
socks and towels, T-shirts and jeans
in the heated air of the crucible
until ideas form, and/or
Are tossed away with the clinging lint.
And/or are collected,
sweet-smelling in the basket
For careful, crease-less folding
re-stocking the closet shelves
To be retrieved and worn again
And tossed into the hamper.
In the daily and weekly routine
A rhythm which comforts
by its constant repeating
Yet now and again breaks forth
causing my fingers to reach for
and grip the comfort of my pen.
(c)Steven B. Eulberg
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