Steal My (Creative) Right (Hand) To Copy

Here writing forward

A foreword for few

Backwords they're bleaching

Words back to debut


In a book full of puzzles

Muzzle not the writer

Lighter of fires

Buyers of drinks


I know smoke when I see it

It sees me choke

In the signals of life

In a single knife-stroke


With the sweep of a pen

Men weep at the words

Of a Poet's heart

In an ink-bottle stirred.




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