pen and ink

you know,
as a poet,
it's easy
to be flippant
in a way,
to get into that space
where pictures
become words,
where sounds
become songs,
where textures
become dimensions
of things
that cannot be worn,

it's easy
to slip into
a default mode,
where you feel
you own the things
that come to you,
where you become
the pen that moves,
when all you are
and can ever hope to be,
is the ink that flows
when the pen is worn
by fingers
readied to speak.