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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue of Down in the Dirt magazine To order this, click on the link below:

Order this writing in the book (bound) Down in the Dirt poetry edition		order the 5.5" x 8.5" ISSN# book order the 8.5" x 11" ISBN# book

Order this writing in the 2010 poetry collection book		click on the book cover for an author & poem listing, order the 5.5" x 8.5" ISSN# book order the 6" x 9" ISBN# book

Poem #1

J. Kingston Reed

As I follow this pen
as a cult to its leader,
over a page, pages to come,
I realize the fear in
traveling, always pointed to the ground
like a pole, cemented,
sucking dirt from the Earth.

Watch the flow run off the page,
I’m writing on the walls,
paint the house,
drown in ink, crush trees and
cover my tracks with fresh sod.
The imagination is fever,
the pen is

An instrument for details,
something to hold behind your ear;
there is nothing in it,
save for the ink,
that this poem could rely on.

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