Drafting

An enormous black dog
Reincarnated as

An old typewriter
With too many keys,

Ink wounding the paper
When fingers attack,

Tired stories snarling,
Restless like trembling dust

Drifting on the edge
Of consciousness,

Straying past its borders
and into the deep wild of the backcountry,

Gripped by insomnia
And feral doubt,

Tuned to the calls
Of the dirt dusk ravens,

A taste in the air
Dry as bone.

It’s all wrong.

One Response to “Drafting”

  1. A poem of real quality which expresses the darkness of a troubled mind. Very moving.

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