Thursday, March 12, 2009

#386: Some Days

Some days it's like molasses in your pen:
you shake and shake and shake, but nothing spills;
On other days you can't wait to begin,
but some damn fool has blunted all the quills;

Some lucky days the poetry just flows
like sun-warmed honey over lovers' flesh;
Still others you would kill for days like those,
or anything at all that might sound fresh;

Some days you stain the page with blood and tears,
slip fingers in between your ribs and squeeze;
Some days your thoughts resemble well-oiled gears
inside steel locks to which your words are keys;

And then some days you've got fuck-all to say--
and you end up with nothing. Like today.

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