Summoning Letters By Ben Walls

Writers, writers—hark ye sounds, announce thy
Encumbering minds. Let yon stationery,
Under quill’s spread, thus paint such phones. I vie
Ye then, noble ones—lurking visionary,
Where such genesis doth hide inside thee,
Crumple nor shun thy work, but bark pieces
In deservèd light; such is my decree.
Belles letters,  prosaic; white, lined creases:
Thine silence marks cold, Winter’s discontent,
Where words shrill, and hush, without chance to lark
truthful admission. Naught a compliment
Ranges where silence greets; thou must be stark.
Parry no longer art hidden away—
Share and exclaim, loudly now, on this day.