Putting It Down


Keep your PDA, your mobile phone,
give me the two P’s, paper and pencil.
I need to lay down lead
on the white road,
loop and curve through
the continents of thought,
put my foot down not my fingertips,
make a point upon the page not a timid tap.

Give me the smudge of the eraser,
the cross-outs, the spider’s web
of moved words and lines, underlines.
I can turn phrases in my head,
rebuild, rearrange, rewrite.

Give me the leaden analogue
winding up and winding down,
vulnerable to wet, and crumpling,
ripping, wrapping and shredding.
The poetry of writing
is lost in the digitry.

Give me lines on my paper
lead in my pencil
and the rich curl
of hand crafted words.


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