The Strikethrough...

Not so long ago, sitting at my desk

I painted meaningful verses...

On the white of crisp paper

A beautifully woven embroidery

Of words in black ink....

Yet when I look at it now,

All that meets my eye

Are the words I struck out,

Thoughts I murdered,

And the emotions I denied expression...

Blotched with ink,

Those desperate attempts to bury.....

Shadow all the splendor of my verses,

- An immortal memorial to

All that's dead in me!