all day, off and on
I've sat and listened for the poem
today's poem, the image
metaphor, the click of thought
something important enough to write about
something someone else would listen to
and think, "yes! I know that!"
even, especially, if they hadn't
before they read or heard it
all day, off and on
I've stared into the wrong side of a mirror
waiting for the image to appear
all day, off and on
I've listened to the traffic outside
to people passing by in mid-conversation
trying to catch a rhythm
or even half a thought
I could match with another of my own
and maybe build the clopping of horse hooves
into... into...
tonight the wind sighs, rattles my window
knocks at the door
surely the spark of a poem hides in one of those
no, I am emptiness, a desert even a lizard spurns
if I must write, then I must write that waste
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