November 19, 2007


I watch my right hand
as it brushes across this paper,

my left hand holding the parchment still,
as a lover would cradle the face of his beloved.

Why do I dull myself on paper
if what I write for is wholeness?

In this moment, I am thought that desires
to remain thought in the imprint of thought.

I have never found terror in a blank sheet of paper.
Iíve only ever faced the complexion of joy.

—Nick Samaras

Posted by dwaber at November 19, 2007 12:33 PM