By Benjamin Grossman and Cassa Bassa
I lost the grip of my writing pen the ink frozen in-between the flow of words and broken nib. As if making every stroke on water letters now convert to vapor vanishing before forming any solid state. I burn lavender incense up to the heavens offering fragments of laden thoughts denial sadness resentment cast down like Autumn rain. I wish to be a fixed matter an existence tightly packed together but my particles keep spreading in different directions deaf to all prayers. I found no escape on the verge of my final break. Perhaps if I hibernate long enough Spring will come with the promising sun I WILL GROW FROM THIS INEXCUSABLE PAIN. __________________________________________________________ *Please make sure to view the poem again and additional content at Cassa's blog: https://flickerofthoughts.com/ It's always a pleasure to write with a poet as knowledgeable and talented as her, and I really enjoy this poem for what it stands for beyond the words.