I used to
write, a lot
of lovers do.

My drive:
a cancer creature lovely,
crazy,
uncontainable.

Watched him rip mind
in half, fillet
innards, sew it
all up, hand me
some Evan Will.

For the longest time,
all the best writers--
lovers and creeps, fools
and drunks--nobody's
done this thing better.

Never realized 'til now:
when you fall in love, best
to lose your mind, heart, and
soul, then, get your writing in.

Not when the root is rotten.
the rancid meat you toss in--
the words--just to keep it going.