I skipped a page and had
To come back to it to find
Still nothing written here
Its blank abandoned gaze
Like the open mouth of a bird
Said feed me feed me
But I refused it words
How could I improve
The purity and silence
Of its several parallel horizons
So we just stared at one another
Blankness calling to blankness
Until suddenly the ink
Grew restless and the poor pen
Could do little to stop it
Like blood rushing from a cut
And expiring on the paper
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