Another year
where will the words
come from
One hundred of them
no less than ninety
Imagery fails me
sunsets, pastel skies,
thunderstorms, music
free form, haiku
three years down
a major way to practice
My brain cannot function
not one more
poem can be written
notebook full of scribblings,
beginnings, mental ramblings
an exciting time of year
this marathon is
Creativity ebbs and wanes
like an ocean wave
twelve straight hours
of creating
like a drain clogged with hair
I’m stopped up
Nothing seeps out and
nothing creeps in
this is the last
I am done
the end