this is a strange pen

this is a strange pen                                 April 22, 2018
this clock has a strange tick
one foot amputated so it walks on its hands
and flops from broken second
to broken second like a fish thrashing
on the deck of a leaky boat
spluttering in the cold water of a reservoir
trying to corral the mountain rivers
for a farm in the sand dunes

i write all of the words
and scratch them out like a hen
pecking in the dust. nothing
but dust and dry bones
and empty words

this is a strange pen that writes
everything
but my heart in
scribbles and scratches like a frightened cat
wanting in. but your heart is hard
and locked.

my ink limps and refuses a cane
no! i am still young!
go away and leave my in peace!

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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