Like a smudge against
what once was
black and white
pain of the pen upon the joint
the gray appears
A watery splotch
with lines of feathered clumsy
the appearance of the gray
upon what was once
black and white
perfectly good
perfectly bad
perfectly simple
no more
now to the joint
down to the knuckle
my lips
apian in reflexive motion
stop the ink
as it trails
but a line of bitter
not good--not bad
those goneby now
pained confusion
yeilds to the humm
restless new places
more attention given
where manifests the gray
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