My Steam-driven Pen
I get no pleasure from an esteem-driven pen,
one so steeped in self-love
so consumed by the fellow within.
Let it not be such,
better it be steam or the wind.
Let it be the movement of the branch,
the tips clawing at the window,
anything –
the etchings left by a snake in the sand,
shifting shavings left there askew
mixed with the droppings of a rat,
the ravings of a madman –
my steam-driven pen.
©Aug 27, 2012 by UT2
2 thoughts on “My Steam-driven Pen”
Alright Bob..you are now a certified sage. I also loved your EPIC Evening Dew..SO many wonders going on in there, all completely connected..but it is the Steam Driven Pen that captures me most. It is “the etchings left by a snake in the sand
shifting shavings left there askew
mixed with the droppings of a rat” that blows my mind. Good on ya mate!
Sagehood has been long arrived at IMHO. As beautiful in its brevity as in its brilliance, which shines brightly.