Tuesday, October 15, 2013

WHISPERING TO THE PAGE


it was a standing-room-only concert.
I buffaloed my way in on shaky press credentials
so I felt obliged to write something, anything—
though I had no place in mind to publish.
As I was free-writing, following flights of fancy, 
hoping to glean some interesting lines,
an old man sitting in the last row complained—
He could hear my pen whispering to the page. 
I was amazed by his acute hearing.
We were both rather irritated. I felt thwarted.
But I liked the unexpected metaphor.


10/15


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