A Sandpaper Soul
An image forms the words-
A reverb of verbiage,
one ear to the next.
In motion, the thought becomes text-
A vortex of language
In sequential rhythm.
Criticism and reconstruction,
Will its perfection,
With purpose and substance.
Lip to tongue,
A singers song,
A poets pen
A spoken dance
Rehearsed
Across the page.
The ideal image
an inside sketch
Rough to the touch-
With a sandpaper soul,
Grinding outward
Biding time,
The final rhyme,
A floating line,
The mind has yet to find.
