Today I was driving in my car, looking at my notepad
shoved without care
corner of a page bent
spirals grasped for life on the edge of that dive.
I thought that I felt I wanted to write,
but the glass inside my head was empty.
Forcing it full just causes it to break,
and so I wait for it to fill, fill, fill,
overflow and
capsize.
It comes suddenly:
a stroke in the section of the brain that biologists
have yet to identify.
a phone ringing at three thirty-eight in the morning.
a cat leaping from behind the corner, hitching a momentary ride on your calf.
a rush of amniotic fluid from a pregnant woman's crotch as
she stands over smooth tile.
How many pens have come apart in your mouth?
How much
redblueblackgreen ink
have you ingested in these pen-cap chew moments of inspiration,
trying to steer without looking,
shift with only two fingers,
scribble without seeing,
glances from concerned motorists in adjacent lanes.
How many
slips of napkins
notepads
envelopes
bills
book covers
receipts
skin
have you marked in fits of...
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 8:09 AM UTC
Today I was driving in my car, looking at my notepad
shoved without care
corner of a page bent
spirals grasped for life on the edge of that dive.
I thought that I felt I wanted to write,
but the glass inside my head was empty.
Forcing it full just causes it to break,
and so I wait for it to fill, fill, fill,
overflow and
capsize.
It comes suddenly:
a stroke in the section of the brain that biologists
have yet to identify.
a phone ringing at three thirty-eight in the morning.
a cat leaping from behind the corner, hitching a momentary ride on your calf.
a rush of amniotic fluid from a pregnant woman's crotch as
she stands over smooth tile.
How many pens have come apart in your mouth?
How much
redblueblackgreen ink
have you ingested in these pen-cap chew moments of inspiration,
trying to steer without looking,
shift with only two fingers,
scribble without seeing,
glances from concerned motorists in adjacent lanes.
How many
slips of napkins
notepads
envelopes
bills
book covers
receipts
skin
have you marked in fits of...
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