“Hey, You Undiscovered Writer,” New Era, Aug. 1985, 27
Hey, You Undiscovered Writer
To write a poem
is to give words life their own—
music of the mind.
Freedom to write
pencil lead was made to be worn down.
The death of night calls time its own—
I am not alone.
Someone, somewhere, pours out her soul
probing deep thoughts
for musical unprose.