Inspiration
Doesn’t come,
Doesn’t last long enough
Doesn’t do her job.

Those Muses
Lived long ago and still think
about visiting
Or should
But don’t

They laugh in beautiful sounds
like singing from a choir
“You can’t write”
they say, “you know nothing,

Of life
Of love
Of desire
Of ecstasy”

But we know
We are blocked,
but we still reign over this
plane of our words

here we find comfort
we find life and existence
we don’t need their control

Humanity stumbles here
Searching for purpose but
We’ve found ours
Us writers, us sunshine seekers
As the pale moon hangs
And doesn’t wholly fade
When the light breaks the east.
We are in two places at once
All the time

We see
Centipedes as steeds
A dandelion
Is a universe
We find hope in the mundane
No need for patterns, seek them anyway
Because the gum on the sidewalk
Is a boat, sailing some sea
Somewhere in a depth of our
imagination
And that is inspiration.