while my cat methodically licks its ****
my mind wanders off to a place where nothing is licking a ****
and there i find peace and tranquility.
hygienic Om.
soon after, i write a poem and settle in to write more.
threading private thoughts through a bullhorn of riddles
and double entendre’.
lilies sleeping with bells on
i saunter far afield and blaze a phrase
in the frozen waste
of writer's block.
i get caught in the Net of Indra
but outside the litter
Box.