Writing against the wall

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