blog of poet, leah umansky

The day is long as the sea is wide as the pen is free.

Antiquate me; let the pages yellow.   Show me what’s been folded down and ripped-out.

Grant not another word; or an otherword

                                                Maybe just one more word,

                                                here at the tip of this tongue.

That darling. That little darling. That small starling of a stole moment is gone.  But…

I saw:

two magpies on the side of the road

            [I felt they were blackbirds.]

Their white stripes some new fancy.

            Let it be lucky.  Let it be luck.

*

In any tone; in any register; expression is really in the eyes.

And fate,

in the hand of the penned.

In the written word of another. Word or non-word. A collaborating effort of letter and mind. Of leather and mine. Of the latter and the make.

Oh, the keening of wonder.   The lusting after what word to put next to the next and the next and the next.

The placements of our lives is on the page .

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