if i’m going to be completely honest with myself
(and yes, that’s a worthy, but lofty goal,)
i’d say i’m frightened of what’s in my head.

and yet, i’m so curious.

and if i’m going to be completely honest with myself,
the second day is when the goal succeeds or fails
(or maybe it’s the third day
or the fourth
or the fifth
or…)

what i’m trying to say is that i
had such a good idea of what to poem about
yesterday
but today the well feels dry
[did i use it all up yesterday?
did i use it all up in the whole concept of this plan?
should i even be writing these poems with the word
“i”?]

the concept is a whole collections of contemplations
one for each day of each week of each month of this one
year.

perhaps it’ll help me write better
perhaps it’ll show me fortitude and consistency
perhaps i’ll give up after a while
(but i’ll still learn some important lessons along the way)
but what i want to know is:
when will i get to the good stuff,
the tough internal workings,
the contemplations on life and death and the liminal space in-between,
the inter-personal inner-workings of being,
instead of just writing about my plan to write?