#406: Mulligan 2

There's nothing to it but to do it now;
I'm churning out another piece of junk.
Just get the ink blots down and don't mind how--
without some inspiration, it's just bunk.

And yet the show goes on, the way a clown
might tell his jokes to seats covered with dust:
nobody there to cheer or smile or frown--
but anyway, it helps knock off the rust.

So maybe, should I stay in shape this way--
no waiting for my muse, just ink and sweat--
perhaps when I find something good to say
I'll find myself strong, fit to bear it yet.

That's why I grind it out day after day;
I keep telling myself that, anyway.
_