My Muse tells me
I am good for you.
Like a vita pill of Creativity,
She sticks in the throat and
laughs at the captivity, until
with a choke, She's, spit up,
Then dances on pages with
spittle ink and blots herself
off to everything's disbelief:
as there sits the complete
drafted out Manuscript
almost within reach...
But I like to take my writing slow
Like a turn signal signaling what
I thought I only thought I'd heard
I like to take her words by surprise
at the corner of the eye with a nod
of understanding well after awhile
I like to bring the scenery in to me
like these cat tails still tilting while
I'm waving half way down the road
with this very sharpened pencil...
My Muse now dispersed dancing
to her sheet music as rehearsed
out of time floating on the wind
as tiny parachutes of dandy lion
too delicate to recollect as mine
make their notes in the currents
of the morning comfort tide...
I sigh... and She'll be back inside.
13 MAR 2023