Blank Verse

The pleasures of a page unpenned
remain uncounted and unknown
the bright possibility
when dwelling on
the blankness
the whiteness
the smooth unstained fibers
awaiting my inking
my loving tattooing
of thinking
meditating
on which words
are waiting
my call to draw
the figures comprising
the slippery substance
of idea, of writing.

The object intrudes
and the object eludes
escaping the focus
of my imaginative locus
Thus the page remains
a pleasure unpenned.