Time passes.
Nothing do I write.
Awaiting the unmarked
re-starting point
to vomit verses
that simply must
issue forth
no matter the cost
or company.
Today—lately—
I feel it coming on.
I’m pulling
away from
all the people things
that deluge me
ordinarily.
Making certain
I carve moments
to record;
Making certain I have
the pens and papers
to complement
my advancing machinations.
Nesting for me
is making ready
for the steady
stream of random
lines stanzas spaces
pressing forth to exit me
by way of
my willing fingers.
© 2012 Shari Lynne Smothers








