It’s 11:33 and
That stupid time is staring at me—
Staring me down
Shouting me down:
Shut up,
Shut up and
Write.
The stupid clock is staring me down,
Timing me
In the mirror
And I can
Make no sense of my words—
Stupid, stupid words,
Just show your faces
Please
(A whine Please)
Writer’s block—
Stopwatch—
That’s what this poem is
And I think
I’m curing it—
11:36 now and
These are the moments that
Make me who I am:
Passing the critical twenty page point and
Cheering eternally,
Humming mentally along to
Phantom of the Opera
As I write
Towards midnight,
Towards daylight,
Towards never stopping and
Grumbling when I wake up too early in the morning—
Tired but rejuvenated,
Reborn in printer ink
And computer keys.