What i am, what i write upon,
and what i write with are all
of the same earth.
We take the tree to write upon
the tree. Humbled by leaves and
skies and dolphins and here i am.
Pages with no lines, words without
boundaries, poems beyond thoughts.
There is more to be said and by the
end i hope to articulate it.
I will for i can. And my mind will stray,
and my purpose will be unclear.
And all i can give back is myself.
And this is me.
(upon real paper, with a real pencil)