from the gaze of silence
over the edge of a cliff
and into a place
that less fleshy
lonely, I
turn on the TV and see
a depressed poet
jump off a cliff
I start writing poetry
Death lurks
about the room
taunting
how can I stop him
from editing my poem
days slip by
minute by minute
hour after hour
a poem is born
time withers
measuring
the weight and length
of death
I count my poems
written and read
anthologized in The Journey and short-listed in 2010 National Poetry Contest held by Polar Expressions Publishing
