Writer’s Block

I need to be inspired

I need to be inspired

Like the fish cold water that lifts the sand beneath my toes.

Like the brisk waves that threaten to collapse lungs on pavement

and woodwork

and stars that dance too aggressively in the sky.

Where the wind doesn’t branch but flows through branches

and collides with sun rays on a summer Sunday

where children have been left out to play.

Where the garden gnome forgets it’s true name

and the pockets on his outer sleeve are sealed shut with

Love.

Hope.

Happiness.

Like a fortune cookie.

Cracked to be open.

Telling you of all the glories your life may or may not hide.

In the darkness, there is light.

Because in the shallow confines of where times

dipped deep into the atmosphere and you took your first breath

Of earth, and warmth, and war and fire.

A mother captured your sadness and doused it.

Quick to her bosom, you rest, reset, and relax.

Until you found something docile and domestic

Later on, you have found the spark

The muse

The fireside awakening of darkness

is Dutch apple pies and a cup of skim milk

“To be beautiful,” she said.

“You already are,” he attested and they made love.

A love that was passionate and elongated

with each skinny lip dipped

into chocolate and reentering the womb.

And like that

Imagination

Inspiration

The writer’s block is gone.

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