Writing stories; blowing soul into descriptions
burying a luminous seed into her "ebony hair"
and "towering physique"...
like Michelangelo setting a Dying Slave free
by carving marble, such a benevolent artist


Writing stories; piping a miscellany of twisted
tragedies, Elysian epiphanies, and hearty hearths
out of our minds...
not as if we are celestial Gods; no, but as if wisdom
tapped on our skulls, and whispered a symphony


Writing stories; braiding windswept trails into
hacking hearts, mellow minds, and aching heels
bolted onto a crossroad...
to bequeath them, you (and ourselves) a fifth
path, a dire escape into a less knotted universe