meaning to write   Meaning to write -- ream of paper, pens, attention here, distraction there, the allure of daylight and heaps of gear . . . and then effort collapses at last, runs fluid, sure; the longsuffering night of flightless dreams erupts with roaring light, the pen obeys its master and doubt falls silent; time seems nothing present, nothing absent. The flame endures a moment, or an hour, or forever --  do we keep it? Is it ours to keep? But every question spits on the coals, every name coughs ashes in the paint, and what we keep to ourselves is the blood that covers our writing: our life for monks and lovers.     © Michael Fleming Berkeley, California March 1990