Author

Pen poised
As though its scribbling
Shall offer notes prophetic
To writer and reader
Both are me
Hoping this pen shall grow lips and speak
Secretly my ears do long for filling
Speak pen
Raspy voice or dulcet laden
Speak
For art, I care not

Is there but one thing thou shalt jot
To prove worth my reading?
What substance canst thou provide
To weight this airborne nothing?
Of course there is none
Not one stroke can improve me

Yet
I perceive my lacking
A phantom dog doth chase his tail
With hopes the catching shall prove him real
Yet, even in his catching the substance is naught
Double foiled
Double fooled
My only resolve is Oneness