The Wheel and the Well

It touches the dry faces of the
corporate ditch-diggers as
they march their deadly cadence
across filthy pavement wonderlands.

It touches the shuddering addicts,
burrowed into non-consciousness in their
rat-hole universities of the mindless arts.

It touches me as I watch my writing hand grow worn and callused –
the red embers of youth's caustic, indignant rage giving purchase to the
ashen madness of the man's inspiration, my ink-bleeding magic wand trailing
bizarre legacies like breadcrumbs.

Erich Campbell

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