one of my earliest poems. Almost eight years now.

Amoung the first written lines
were a viper coiled in anger
Its blunt head wounded
In place of faded words
silk glowed
in a snails track
words thrown out
hung strangled in the cobwebs
growing in the courtyard.
In the dark while I was humbled
over the crumbling paper
Inside the corroding pen
with vengence
waited
the black scorpion of the ink.
slcw