Analysis of Elbow Poetry

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That ink comes to a boil.
Letters stuck together
In each word of the page.
I take my pen to break
Them up a conductor
Of the idea which
Is taken out quickly
Before it has a chance,
In a way to burn me.
As my pen stirs the ink,
It lays next to the page.
I come back stirring it
To make sure that it's cooked.

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