Bringing a penumbra on white
like trees on winter snow
my shadow lends the nature
not physical, but seen
my words do not possess
like my hands bent and contorted
until inked on the crisp vanilla
staining the purity of thought
the pen's blood - black
like its shadow creator
comes forth…

Crystal Korzinsky Chambers

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blank-canvas/