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  Apr 28 Elliott's Window
Clarity wont stay
like crossing country wind shields
always collecting
mud from unpaved dirt roads,
woe! no wipers for my soul
Words were merely words--
And only that to me,
Until she became the words--
The words to my poetry
You’ve made substance out of textures,
painted bones from fragile skin
Implied the world into being,
a home for me again
I’m rooted in the dirt and sheathed in keratin
But living now just for the mist that quietly descends
Keratin is a key structural element in reptile scales and the outer layer of your skin - from Wikipedia
  Apr 23 Elliott's Window
no one celebrates
the dark side of the moon
the vast, cold, undrawn expanse
that gives
the glowing waning crescent
its character
that allows its sliver
to shine so majestically
and light the sky for others
no one celebrates
the dark side of the moon
but without it
what would they draw
in the corner of the page?
Sitting on an island
Between slumber and work,
Tuning into all the waves that pass me by
I’ve made my big decision
Reason firm set in my mind
But diluted by the breaking of the tide
What if that was the last good one?

Out of ideas

And inspiration for the rest of days.

Unable to write anything of worth

One piece of crap after another

Abandoned by the Muse

A victim of writer’s block.

I better write another

Here and now

Just to prove

I still have it.
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