Process

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I scour the language
for that right word,
pouncing
staggeringly
and unsure,
then rejoice as the ink
begins its flow
from my fingertips.
This–my legacy–
is no memorial,
no lament
to be sung to crowds
or
analyzed by scholars,
yet
these words
can never
be stolen from me,
will thrive
in notebooks and diaries,
beckoning
your wandering eyes
to scan the lines
for all that was
unjustified
in saying aloud,
for all those thoughts
with forfeited weight
lost on the brevity
of both breath and sound;
I’ve traced
my myriad thoughts
into these words
caressed and molded
so as to bear
the burden,
each letter
my coarsely designed
message to you,
my audience,
muse,
critic,
and,
with luck,
fan.

(dtn)

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6 Comments

Filed under Words

6 responses to “Process

  1. I’m a fan. I regale in the regularity of your pondering poems. My expression lies in the brush and yours in the pen. I’m your fan as we stumble through each day finding the strokes of brush and pen, creating a wholeness of self, reaching to others coloring thoughts. Adding to life.

  2. Blaine Verley

    David, the only word I can think of is, “Exquisite.” This is writing from deep, deep, deep within. I am blown away by you, my young friend! Beautiful…and filled…with truth!

  3. gerald parnell

    mark me down as a fan….

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