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ink love poem

black ink run cross-town, just to cross a page.

layers and layers, 75 cent poster board: has my secret had enough time to bleed into you? i have been dying to share this; let it sink into every fiber.

i am a purist when it comes to specific things: black india ink. your label reads, “bien agiter avant emploi.” yes, i know.

black ink, run. teach me the dance that only you know. wreck me for anyone else.

you’re a star cavern. i endure your angles and narrowly escape the curve of your open mouth, and you know it.

you are easily distilled with water, and you’re black cross, new mexico.

combined with scattered nibs and an angled brush, you’re a masterpiece waiting to happen.



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