Manic Expressions In Black

It's a fact: poems write themselves on their way to creating life. Drop a dollop of ink on a sidewalk, a body with arms and legs emerges from the point of impact. North, south, east, west, every point between. Sometimes a familiar shape appears, like a starfish, New Yorker, or an epiphany. It can also be undefinable, quaint, or a beautiful mistake. Often, you nudge the edges to attain the shape in your musing. Does it ever? Pen to paper is good news, a coupling sanctioned by Eros himself. No color-by-numbers road map necessary. An idea is a drop of paint waiting to be splattered.