procrastinating

the reasons not to write a poem are many. you only have 20 minutes and you know you need more than that to get into a FLOW. you know that poetry isn’t made with sips but gulps. you know poems are like the birds and they’re not singing. you know that poems can’t be squeezed out of a toothpaste tube or shot out of a barrel. you have to leave them alone ‘til they’re ready. you are tired of words. you’ve been doing them all day. there are drinks in the fridge and you are sober and also hungry. the woman you are going to write poems about is next to you and that’s too close, especially when you’re going to write poems about other women too. you know the sun is hot on half of your leg and that’s distracting, and even more distracting is a face like a music box ten miles away. there is money to be made, and there are people you should call. you should be using this time to pay your overdue taxes or to find somewhere to live. you should be using this time to look for a part-time job for the benefit of all humanity. the doctors will thank you and the writers will thank you. the women will thank you. you should order some food or water some plants. you could walk aimlessly in the evening sun of Los Angeles…there are people who never get to do that in all their lives. instead you’re feeling the breeze against your bare chest on the balcony that belongs to a good woman. a very good woman, and she is a mother and a good mother and her children are with their father. right now you are watching her legs ROAR on the pedals of a stationary bike, the thick calves and quads, and the hamstrings…one of your favorite muscles…the way they flex and heave like a biblical event… the motion is songlike and the keys are soft and inviting finally, and doing this feels like eluding dark corners. it’s like pouring gold in the gutter or swinging at air and hitting. well, in the end there is always one very good reason to write a poem.