every time i admit to writer’s block, the next day, the feelings come back

dinks, long time ago
drove a bmw, drunk
recklessly eternalizing
the hiccuping happiness
flash forward, florida, fauna
fishtails, wild turkeys, bewares
anywhere but heres, no here! heres!
pushing the glasses away, glazed still
new hangover, guilt, regret, addiction
all rugs come with a fray, handle-care
don’t slide down halls with dimmers
on last of a case of sparkling wine
drunk dialing the boys, worried
back swimming to a record
scratched at that one part
counting the grooves
when it says
no refill

don’t be the one
hearing the words
of an intervention

aging clogs
veins slowly
with traffic
whose magnetic
mufflers mangle pain

and that’s
why every
time i see a
winter’s tree
i think of lungs
or veins or brains
of oxygen, depletion
the taste of grey, cotton
frailty, frozen blood, weary
palm on an incredulous forehead
the ensuing,  “…fuck…”  and sigh
lacking any assurance, no ensure
but for the fronds come hithering
fingers after my own dead heart
dropped from the sky again
and again and again
there are
no apologies
on denial’s

i don’t know how to love

14 thoughts on “every time i admit to writer’s block, the next day, the feelings come back

  1. Excellent. I especially like the line breaks and the visuals they create. I see skateboard ramps. I really love the way you always end with one line set apart by itself—one last summation or presentation of your primary point/thought. It bears your soul more than all the rest of the poem. It’s like your working through the madness of your thoughts throughout the body of the poem, but then at the end you achieve some clarity or wisdom about it all (or even about something else entirely). I dig it the most, chica.

  2. the fronds come hithering fingers over my own dead heart…cool line that…that opening stanza is a wicked cascade at a ruthless pace…ha…i could hear it…the last line being stand alone is a great punch too…

  3. Wow. This is packed with power and somewhat chilling images. The form reminds me of an Etheree (I didn’t count the syllables) and you added in some great alliteration. A strong, effective write about addiction.

  4. Wow, vividly intriguing verse, some cool alliteration “magnetic mufflers mangle” a mosaic of feelings here, I really liked:”but for the fronds come hithering
    fingers after my own dead heart” maybe life is only just a chance to learn how to love!

    • thanks so much! you’re the second person to use the word alliteration, and it cracks me up, because i literally (aliterally), don’t know what it means. what kind of writer am i? hahahaha. regardless, love what you said.

  5. I loved this. It as so much depth to it. The ending made me pause for a moment and think, I was curious the entire time how it would end, and you did it beautifully. “I don’t know how to love” – Very profound. There is this lingering deep sorrow that suits your beautiful choice of words,

  6. “I don’t know how to love”…the black hole addicts try to fill….can’t be done anyother way but by learning to love….seems it should come naturally but for some of us , no, it doesn’t, for some reason we didn’t get the app or it was buried or stolen.

  7. …i am glad you ended up this poem with that line…unexpected though after reading the intriguing preceding lines but i do think you did give justice in that finale…well done…smiles..

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