in this moment i write
i do nothing but write

I feel for all their specificity the particular textured depression
of each key beneath my fingers  
I mul over each syllable and idea in my mind
toying with it's taste on my tongue


i let myself sit in silence when no words come


in this moment i write
i do nothing but write

no distractions exist for me here
i stare at the upper corner of the room between words
i reread what i have typed
i stare at the blinking line as it reveals my next thought


and i let myself sit in silence when no words come


the poetry is in the silence sometimes