Sunday

Listening to Lawrence Ferlinghetti and sitting in my writing room, not writing at all until now. No ideas but this is no excuse as all one needs to do is start with anything.
deciding to start with a post here and just see what happens next, which will probably be nothing as dinner is soon and listening to another poet never inspired me to create my own - only recreate theirs which is not an option.
could/should put on Sibelius  - the tone poems and then see what comes crawling to the surface for cleaning and consideration. But I am listening to "I am waiting" and that is what I am now doing. L.F. having far too much influence on me at the moment tho I cannot be brought to shut it off. there are only about 14 minutes left of the album and now I am waiting for it to end but is waiting what should be done, is waiting now only a thought deterrent while waiting for the medications to kick in.

A Coney Island of the Mind is like a nuclear deterrent of the creative mind.

here is a previously blogged poem but it is Sunday and I can feel good about this.


the platitudes of willful resemblances

some things have a harder time changing than others.
sleep comes hard,
now we recognize,
meds and allergy pills. a
little beer and hopefully soon to sleep
and dream along the platitudes
of willful resemblances.

 - Hoc Scripsi