Black ink rolls and sinks

into the pale paper

like water hydrating the earth

...quenching the silence

Cars spot the land

and dig into its grace

resembling red, blue, white, and black

painted fingernails, gleaming in the sun

ripping into the earths virgin flesh

...once blocks are scattered

the building is never remade quite the same...

I consummate loneliness...this chosen loneliness

with these words...

Giving in so tenderly

pen scratches away, pushing through, into the


Tree branches make patterned the dirt

leave my mark (leave me marked),

opening me up after waiting so long

Here and now, within my own hands

These pages are consummated

by my outpouring readiness