it is here that i haven’t been to
for around three years
in that of writing something worthwhile.
in between my last poem
and coming here to write,
i bought books of poetry, novels and autobiographies,
and did lots of reading.
lately, I’ve been reading Jack Kerouac’s selected letters
to find some juice
to come through these veins.
pulling away from writing sometimes happens,
and one begins to wonder if it can be found again.
maybe pretending to write a letter
to my muse would stir something up.
i’m not sure if i am finding it,
but giving it a whirl surely makes me feel different
than i have in quite some time.
but one thing i can bank on,
is that i have old poems
to read at the readings
i have just started to go to
in the past couple of weeks.
so maybe this poem
can kickstart me once again
into a small miracle
upon this page.