Writer’s Block

I turn again into the mine,
Unsure of what I mean to find,
And hack the earth without a pick,
Groping, gasping, growing sick
Deeper yet into the cleft,
Between the right lobe and the left,
Loosing with bare hands the sod
Of buried lovers, pains and God
Then up again the wretched shaft,
My lantern swinging fore and aft,
I, bleeding, scrape the sediment,
Of crushed and ancient sentiments
Up and through the cavern’s yawn,
Crying in the blinding dawn,
I check my pail for what I’ve found,
I see a hole, my feet, and ground

~By Grant Geary

Featured in Vol. 3 Iss. 2
Featured in Vol. 3 Iss. 2

1 Comment

  1. erichmichaels

    Very nice! Wonderful imagery!

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