Raymond A. Foss Poems

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I hear the verse in the cells of my fingers
feel the pull of the words on the keyboard
typing them as fast as my digits can go
sometimes,
lingering over a turn of phrase
a bit of thought
too ephemeral to be grasped quickly

Sharing all the words, all the meaning
I glean from the air, the spirit
calling me to write, to leave it on the page
urging me
stain on the parchment
characters in the dust
saved by whirling hard drives
and pieces of time

July 13, 2006 15:34

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