sitting down to write
and not feeling the immediate
“i have to eat”
“i have to use the restroom”
“i have to do anything other than
write right now”
and i don’t know what to do with that
how to use it —
all the possibilities are before me
spread out
mapped and tangled and crumpled from
viewing but disuse
and i simply want to write
something
something
something
to make myself feel
like i’ve used my
one wild and wonderful brain