Phenolic Poem by Donald W. Hayward

The black graphite pencil riddle
Ask arcane carpenters questions
They will say that some matter has plasticity
Sometimes it doesn't matter

The aging plastic of Chemical Man in a suit and a car
Is crumbling now, when once it was offered unto God
As proof of our infallible spectacular competency
Like putting graphite in the center of a wooden rod
Watch it make enigmatic symbols on paper

Perhaps it is writing, communicating something very important
Or not important at all, but a sudden whim to make some marks
And try to figure out what you mean later, when you are wiser
The woman you live with has carried bundles of sticks, charred the
Sharpened ends in the fire, good for drawing things on the blank wall
And a good spear for the kill.