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North American Dreaming: Indigo Ink

The pen forms letters...but the writer is more than his words, muses William Burkholder.

Do please visit Bill's Web site http://www.freewebs.com/nirvanasgate/index.htm

Indigo ink
Drips from my pen,
At the behest of my sullen,
Sometimes,
Manic Mind,

Fits and flurries,
Of verse and song,
Scratched and scribbled on pages,

Kept in locked voids of insight
Known only to me,

My counterparts'
Voices lay in my memories
Screaming to be heard,

Lauding my rhythm of the written word.
I step back and turn away
At my ego's demand to make me think,

That I am more than I am;
More than just a writer,
But merely a man.

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