Wreathed in cherry blossoms and
covered with a cloak of promises,
I search my word-withered mind
for a catchy poetic title to entice.

Marooned names scattered amongst
the catacombs of a dizzy literary mutt;
I believe are in need of a dusting.
Ah yes, dusting and cleaning is a must!

‘Sublime gifts transcend the artist’,
this we all know but, what if the gift fails,
gets caught in the cortex, mucked down?
Then where is a poet to turn to, I ask?

Wrinkling the silky fabric of confusion
my mind and his thoughts seem to be stuck;
perhaps a bit of expert ironing is in order!
I’ll see if Ms. Ironing is up for the task!

Jon Von Erb
6/2020