Where Be My...

Poem By Justin Zahn

Look at this desk in disarray,
clutter like that of the waste land,
but yet we pray;
as the blank page stares back with mocking eyes
toward the edge of the ball point and this crippled hand.
It is toward the lack of muse,
and the lack of reason
that I find myself stuck in between;
toward the want,
toward the hope,
and toward the need,
where we still plead and grieve
as to where they found their seed.

'To where be my sistine Michelangelo,
for don't you see how the women come and go?
And what be of you Annabell Lee,
where be my kingdom by the sea?
For if I were to, were to plead,
maybe this, Terence, wouldn't have to be stupid stuff.'

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