While I stare into the air
with an expressionless face
at the empty place
where my next poem will come from
I delight in my not knowing
Not knowing the name
Not knowing the fame
Knowing neither the meaning
nor the theme
Knowing neither the event
nor the intent
Not knowing the length

There is a well
that I never find dry
And now though I know
I was determined
to leave the door closed
I did not tease it out
or chase any bait
and was happy to wait
but it walked through the wall
anyways
and stares at me