I am a writer
a born writer
published by a womb
Handwritten by a nib from an inkwell
between the lines
a joined-up writer
I am a copy writer
copybooks
essays scribbled from memory
Minutes taken at meetings
reporter, drafter,
instructing others
Propaganda scribe
editor of text
pointed editorials
I am a writer
I want to be published
I have nothing to say
except what you want to hear.
_______
And I am a writer
dream-writer
I create
thoughts I own
feelings I conceive
imaginations I imagine
I write in a vacuum I design for my muse
floating in space.
________
I too am a writer
a bought writer
my labour earns me food, shoes, shelter
I compose with blood, sweat and fingers fit for travel
to Atlantis and Arthritis.
________
I am writing my way through a stone,
split,
as if a schizoid elephant
home from Kubla Kahn
I enjoyed seeing your handwriting- it’s very personal like fingerprints. Perhaps we have ink instead of blood flowing, and after we were born just drew ourselves as we grew
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An arresting and vivid way of putting it –
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