All day,
since seven,
I have written.
My mind
is singed
and jumpy,
nervous
and edgy.
I need a nap,
but still words
pile upon words.
Bourbon
does not help;
the assault
continues.
It is good
to be a poet,
but sometimes
rest would be
better.
- mce
9/12/2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment