blank

every word critically suppressed

room is empty, walls are blank

writer draws, shoots, writes blanks

blank page, filled, still blank

poems are also blank

Stephanie lost her drawing months ago
dog, ice cream cone, two cherries

which, found, writer puts on his desk

hot summer, iced water, condensation

smeared red ink on the page

dog's face melted, ice cream cone stays

pinned to the wall

--wall is no longer blank

poems, still slightly blank

outside, wind rustles, leaves, comes back

blank streets wrapped up coolly

streets are quiet, empty, quite

generation is tucked in, filling in blanks

or dodging knights, tied up, zipped

blank stares and stories, chipped

writer blinks at blank wall

fills in words with vague thoughts 

blank breasts, huge ideas

poems, though, all so blank