Finding My Pen

So many unwritten lines
words
letters
over such an expanse
of time.

The thoughts have flooded,
roiling and pounding like
boiling waves

The images bright and vivid,
pale and diffused
clearly confusion

The transition to a keyboard
for journalling my thoughts, poetry and dreams
never successfully negotiated.

The ink flowing from the scratching pen point
even if aided by the rolling ball tip
is a lubricant to my awareness

Thoughts tumble as
socks and towels, t-shirts and jeans
in the heated air of the crucible
until ideas form,
and/or
are tossed away with the clinging lint.

And/or are collected,
sweet-smelling in the basket
for careful, crease-less folding,
sorting, stacking
re-stocking the closet shelves

To be retrieved and worn again
and tossed into the hamper

©2005 Steve Eulberg