I’ve noticed when a person doesn’t know what to write about
they tend to write about having writer’s block.
I do it, too
only when the pot and bourbon won’t work,
and my sore brain crawls on through the night
like a rat
dragging a mousetrap
across a cold kitchen floor,
and the only thing moving in the whole world
is the ceiling fan
overhead,
circling like a vulture.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I know the feeling well, apart from I haven't got a fan Jackson! lol A good writer unblocking poem. 10 from smiling at you, Tai