I remind myself sometimes                                      of the certain type of blankness                          hidden thoughts and meanings suggested            white hinted at, the monstrous lack                          of another's lettered instructions                             not left behind                                                    carefully hiding what to do                    

when facing this individually tailored crisis.

Sometimes a story begins to invade, to unwind       from hesitant, fearful fingers                       embarrassed to be pushing                                   into peaceful white.                                                 The space, eerily free, eerily blank                        just needs a good kick in the ass                             to get myself started.

Without the guidance of precedence                      the mistakes are my responsibility.                        My only hope                                                         that thy will be good.