The Muse
spits it out
like sneezy
snotty faced
youngsters
with hard
dialogue
for all
the writers
here
amongst us
off on a hiatus
still writing
when she wants us
we are so
inspired
won’t deny her
when she punctures
our person
with the pencil
edge
we’ve taken
a simple
pledge
to dangle
on the ledge
and overflow
when we
are overfed
full with
all the discipline
that certain
words
have given them
pain is physical
when verses
simply won’t
come into them
so when it
visits them
channel change
is near impossible
considered exorcism
cleansing breath
which we are
locked into
reaching
to draw
sense of sound
we sometimes
sounds illogical
our heart is
artistry
painting portrait
of the improbable.
