more. I am waiting for the words to tone down and to disappear into
the background of my consciousness. The poems wanting to be written
are still there. But I am not letting it reach the hand. And the
hand is not poised to write or type the poem. The mind tries to steer
away from the poem waiting to be written. A reason and a thousand
others do not need to intervene, no reason is needed. I don't want to
write the poem. Not "not yet" just simply "not." Maybe just "not
today" but I know it won't last forever.
Another time then. Meantime, another kind of pining and spacing out.
-- andoy
26 May 2007
