I’ve always been able to do this.
To respond
with words; to write a poem,
a story in prose,
this word has perplexed me.

Maybe I’ve lost my touch,
my muse disabled, my ability to compose
lost in some monochrome
of muted confusion.

The weekend, gone in two hours
with creative potential left
to wallow
and embarrass my ass,
unable to complexify or sophisticate

Words with characteristic poetic aplomb,
to roll out enough dribble
to meet the challenge of lettering
up something good enough.

Confused by wordly entanglement,
it’s bewildering.

Looking both ways is not always the answer.
Mind the gaps and write away.