Here writing forward

A foreword for few

Backwords they're bleaching

Words back to debut

In a book full of puzzles

Muzzle not the writer

Lighter of fires

Buyers of drinks

I know smoke when I see it

It sees me choke

In the signals of life

In a single knife-stroke

With the sweep of a pen

Men weep at the words

Of a Poet's heart

In an ink-bottle stirred.