poised pen (6/10/24)

when was the last time
I wrote to you
seems like forever ago
since I put pen to paper,
how such a habit
falls into disuse
doesn’t feel right
inking such words
in ways in which
cut and paste
delete and erase
aren’t options
not without
leaving a trace,
and once committed
aren’t taken back
unless I set it alight
and begin
all over again,
thoughts have to flow
as each is wrote
no turning back
while any mistakes
become part of the mess
scrawled on the page,
from left to right
and line by line down
it gives the experience
such an edge
a truth not found
in cut and paste
delete, erase,
the sound of the voice
of a pen poised
upon the next sentence
bound with intention
and not least,
a frisson of tension,
spelling unchecked
but, what the heck,
it’s writing
not text,
its presence
not absence,
a stream of emotion
not drowned
in a spell-checked ocean
or predictive devotion,
perhaps I should write,
perhaps I just might,
gosh, is that the time...

© 2024 robert greig