Writing Wrongs

Writing wrongs the thought the thinker had
or the thought the reader thought he meant.
Writing pays the writer out
for every second spent in doubt.
Full concentration
on word selection
removes all superfluity
- relieves the reader’s
last responsibility
to find new meanings
in careful ambiguity.

Reading writes alternative versions
of the lie the writer thought he’d told:
reading leads the reader on
to where the writer might have gone
in spontanaiety.
His complicity
with crafted composition
stifles a reader’s
tacitly siezed permission
to find their meaning,
whatever it turns out to be.