Process

Inky tresses

Curls of black

Fluid messes

Loose and slack

On the border

Of one's thoughts,

Out of order

Once they're caught

Sections rife

With loose notation

Breathing life

And inspiration

Words continue

In their time

Every sinew

Every line

Pages rough

With pulpy teeth

Pulling curtains

From beneath

When successful

How few notice:

Words impressive—

Never quoted.