The poetry of pen and paper

these things I write;
this gift of knowing
three lefts make right,
this thrill of thrusting

through light— orgasmic flight.
this bloody mary of birthing
white— by blinding sight.
throughout this absorbing

life, this dragging night,
this dragon bite— aching
through marrows, departing flight,
departing fright, screaming

thoughts and banging fights.
thesaurus of ailing
sounds, too thoughtful for kingly spite,
these things I write.

Younglan Talyoung