Blocked

Here’s rhizome flesh, this ginger snap,
but varnished by chromatic swipe,
a pastel writhing through to cubes -
Platonic solids, prism too -
tattoo mark nailed, ink index held.

Math in art, a moulded view,
but soaking in a white sheet mood,
though through soup float, leave bits to gloat.
Space splashes light, fraught cuticle,
but how does derm grip angular -
though palmistry might trace life’s lines,
and xylem, phloem brings growth from roots -
uneasy flow from curl to straight?

The serif route, with guide of tropes,
brings creative, style to font,
refreshing spring at start of path,
the wont of rite to write as want.
So who says right to angle shape,
protract a figure when figure there -
and protracted, so long drawn count?
To marry it, and interrupt -
what might just be if block kept out?
A compliment to complement,
to be, when others nail their writ;
is this the cause, my writer’s block?