Ink
By Ewan
Mon, 02 Apr 2018
- 239 reads
The strokes cut, sweeping, into the vellum;
the blots will dry in a sprinkle of sand:
tattooed paper striving for meaning
shows a surface – a scratch and score –
a monkey’s scribble
and nothing more.
Descenders, ascenders and quirky serifs,
letters italic and an angled nib:
this byzantine mess of calligraphy
hides the hollow at its heart:
’tis logic chopping
and no kind of art.
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