Have you written anything new?
They ask
My words are still here,
I hope yours are too.
300 words a day
I admit the well feels a little dry
I’ve fallen out of the habit
And my last two entries feel like lies —
They’re totally unfinished
Hot and steaming like just-poured French press
Lines tight like the vertical ribs in my tank top
There is a tiny rip in my pants
I am visions of gold and plaid
Oh, hello
I didn’t see you there
But now I recognize you
With your face freckled
And curly brown hair
Though you may be overlooked
I lost a dear friend today
He had four legs, four hooves
A long tail, and a mane
The kind of fellow you might ask
Hey, why the long face?
My barista said, one late afternoon
Hey J, how are you?
I’m exhausted, I reply, I’ve been up since 2
2 in the morning?
No, dude, the afternoon
Insomnia insomnia
The word seduced
Me in my youth
Hand-stitched
Problems projected
Onto myself
In the past, I was hurt very bad
Faces, voices, sounds, smells
A hot cup of coffee wakes up the world
One more face gets lost in the crowd
Yesterday’s front page fades into the background