after a couple of days of not writing
I am shadowed by a fear that I won’t
write any more that poetry has stopped
speaking to me not even wisps or hints
at vague understandings just mute
as if all words were absorbed back
into silence’s primeval maw
without even grunts or gestures
to contain inarticulate desire’s
flailings for more than just itself
inevitably it is this silence
which draws me back into the page
the fear that without the words
there remains nothing which is me
(August 1, 2015)
subtext 