Tuesday, April 1, 2008


I felt those words start as a light tingle

In the back of my mind

And I knew they were meant to be seen

It was as if the paper turned magnet

Drawing them out from the inside of me

Narrowing down to flow like blood

From my fingers, sliding down the

Yellow pencil drop by drop and there was nothing

I could do to stop it

Had I even wanted to

My whole body curved to the paper

Like a wind was pressing me closer

And the tingle turned to a burn

Spreading through my body like an

Prairie fire

And it felt bad and it felt good

It was as if... I was making a wall

Brick by brick, only from the topside down

Each word a wavering block

The surrounding sentences, the mortar

I had to keep going until I reached the ground

Near to the end as I read the words Id penned

And felt the burning ease up and go

I saw my creation was not a staid wall

not at all

through the haze of the smoking fire I saw

The spire of my glorious cathedral

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