I’m rummaging
through my brain, turning
out my mental pockets,
hoping to find the words
for one more poem. yesterday
I spent all my coins, cranked
out so many poems that I truly fear
I have nothing left. why didn’t I save
one or two for a rainy day
like today, when I’m hungover
and have no inspiration
and nothing seems worthy
to write about? silly me.
maybe if I look a little harder
I can wring some more wine
out of this dirty rag
I call my brain, and cudgel one more
collection of words on the page
into something resembling
a poem.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s