September 10, 2016My Pen Is Out of Ink
my pen is out of ink.
and the house is creaking
and the curtains keep moving
and my pen is out of ink.
you still stand there,
as quiet as you’ve ever been
[i was always into the artist-type]
and my pen is out of ink.
and the planes go by overhead
passing all of the birds
and the clouds
and it’s beautiful, really.
my pen is out of ink.
and the kids are lying
in the park
in the woods and
leaves are falling
and they are singing
giggling
and carrying on
and my pen is out of ink.
the rain just started
[‘O the sound of heaven cryin’]
and there was lightning
which is god
one of them
or something better
and my pen is out of ink.
now they are leaving
escaping dust
death
and other things
and i’d love to write a letter
[but my pen is out of ink.]
from 2016 RYPA