Write

Think of the hands that write this poem.

The left hand is a weird writer, this is my writing hand,

holding tightly to the pencil, while the right hand

bridges around the outside.

The right hand is the hand with which I throw a ball.

They work together to give me facility.

How easy to perform and comply.

What will I gain from this writing?

The left hand writes a letter.

The right hand knocks on a door.

Interlocking finger pray.

Write to live for ever.

Do I write to talk to the dead or

do I write to talk to people after I am dead?

 

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About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
This entry was posted in poem. Bookmark the permalink.

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