Coven Cafe For Daniel
March 21, 1997

pen is poised
ink awaits
white virgin paper

red hard nails tap
glass topped coffee table
tattoo your name

inspiration stubbornly
refuses
ejaculation

keep the point poised
ink blots grow like
blood stained gunshot wounds

words are
virtually
noncompliant

words
only wishes
like stolen dreams

fly like wind socks in March
flapping
slapping nonsense

the clock seems to have frozen
momentarily
as memories shared.