i place the nib of my pen
onto the pure white piece of paper
unmarked/unmarred

waiting for inspiration
waiting for the words
to flow like a river

from the wellspring of my mind
but the well has dried up
no words come

and it scares me deep inside

i just don't want to write
drivel/foolishness
i want to reach you

i want to touch you
but how can i
when the well has run dry

no words
no words
no words

just nothingness/emptiness

hello can you hear me
is anybody home
nothing but the reverberation of my voice

against the solid blank walls
of the interior of my mind
only silent spiders spinning

fragmented words/poems

a flash of inspiration lights up the dark
but just as quick as lightning
it disappears

if i don't write it down immediately
it flies off/forgotten
never to be remembered

where is the inspiration
where are the words
where is my muse (have you seen her)

(C) karla dorman, 2003