a writer is not only what he writes
but also what he keeps to himself
taste acquired
perhaps on long walks on the beach
its a conquered skill
and a beautiful savoring
of a fine diet
that reminds him
of the body he needs
judge them not for their drafts
also not just their hits
judge them for what's attempted
despite the pressure of the ink
and that inner critic
echoing voices of family meets
the escaping of their self
shall feed the escape of others
may they meet on a lovely sunset
making love to the imagination
that could only become free
from light, carbohydrates, liquid metals