Writing against the wall
Against my will I’m leaning
Against the wind
They call it writer’s block
But I’m not exactly
Blocked I’m not winded either
Or walled-in Or even out
I’m as inspired as ever
As I breathe As I dream I am
(Poetry gets me high)
But the zeitgeist’s higher
It’s a wall of water
A 300 year high towering
Over a life of denial
Over my unsustainable
Smile The old high water mark
Tsunami rubbing out
Whatever I might write about
And no tsu-mommy
To make it all better
I was too comfortable
In my old sweater
Holed up in my holograph
Or was it a photograph?
I’m white as a sheet
(I’m full of shit)
I’m shaking my head
I’m quitting my job
Which was to sound cock-sure
I’m a stay-at-home-poet
I’m hiding from Covid
I’ll dream my way forward
Not strapped Tapped out
Socked in Clocked out
I’m taking a time-out
So I’m miming this No crime
But my hands aren’t clean
I’m miming the right way
To wash my hands
But I’m answered out
You got questions? Me too
My queries are new for me
For you But I’m old for the record
I’m late catching on
But I’m on it
Who did it? I done it
Just get me out of your sonnet
I’m serious This is serious
The consequences imperious
I’m uptight All white
But it’s not all right