The fluid pen type of ink.
The ink held within the confines of a pen,
held in your hand.
The kind that can stain,
when unrestrained.
Neglected in clothing
-in pockets.
There’s blue, green, pink…
but this time I select
standard no-nonsense black.
Feeling sober, it’s time to think,
and attack. (You can’t spell think without
“ink”).
And the ink sinks through a narrow plastic tube.
From the upper edge of my mental screen,
ideas drop, and invade like Space Invaders…
Thoughts spill out like Jackson Pollock
paint drips, but get more refined, as the ink dries.
I’ve been writing since forever,
about beginnings, but my thoughts have
become more refined and crystalized lately.
Less Pollock, more Mondrian. But as I wrote before,
-more curved- less rigid. This ink is permanent:
great for the signatures of the immortals,
ink drawings,
