everything's blue in this world

Cacoethes scribendi

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

palimpsest

Pages worn thin from countless alterations,
eraser-smudged lines faded and broken.
I take pen in hand and try to make corrections
but perfect words are hard to come by.
Suddenly, the fear I'll never get it right...
Is everything I've done in vain?
I scratch through words on paper,
try again to write my wrongs.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Posted by Elle Lassiter at 1:41 PM

0 comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Blog Archive

  • ►  2012 (2)
    • ►  May (1)
      • Writing Practice: 1 May 2012 -- Shibboleth
    • ►  April (1)
      • Writing Practice: 30 April 2012 -- Kiss
  • ►  2006 (12)
    • ►  November (2)
      • Jim, Edith Keeler must die
      • She's not only merely dead, she's really most sinc...
    • ►  October (4)
      • ...mark these words on his grave...
      • One of these days I'm going to cut you into little...
      • recall odor
      • Gravesend, or How I Intend to Spend the Month of N...
    • ►  May (2)
      • Desperately seeking a plot
      • Getting down to business...
    • ►  March (4)
      • bijou
      • Skin Deep: An excerpt
      • Inside
      • Beauty
  • ▼  2004 (20)
    • ▼  September (13)
      • Elegy
      • diaspora
      • Cyanosis
      • Intuition
      • Alchemy
      • Schism
      • Uncle
      • This suit of flesh, this weak and fragile body clo...
      • Oasis
      • Erstwhile
      • Chiaroscuro
      • Flagrant
      • palimpsest
    • ►  August (5)
      • Syzygy
      • Durga
      • Something like love
      • Dervish
      • Saturday
    • ►  July (2)
      • becoming
      • Quicksilver (Mercury's daughter)
Picture Window template. Powered by Blogger.