How odd that you've never seen
My hand set pen to paper,
Fits and starts clearly
Tracing crevasses skirted;
Patches of all-fours scrabbling;
Wild downswoops across ice so blue
It waits breathless to melt
And wing you skyward, transfiguring
The cloudspace between words.
So many tidy electron-edges here
That the universe encompassed by
An inkblot is remote as Andromeda
Or yesterday's tears.