Creative Writing

(July 2002)


Flat.
An endless expanse of white sand;
Not a soul in sight.

Point to it, Prophet Man,
          point to it!
                    Point!

Dry.
Ah! And less. Lax. Pensive. Wise stand—
yet—they’re bones of white.

Speak to it, Prophet man,
          speak to it!
                    Speak!

Flesh—
an end? Less expensive. Why tease and
toy with soulless might?

Breathe on it, Prophet Man,
          breathe on it.
                    Breathe.

Sky—
and endless—expansive. Why, it is and
soulful. Dark and light.

Write it, Prophet Man,
          write it!
                    Write!