May 14, 2012
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Loafing around waiting for inspiration to arrive,
Dropped in naturally from a party of gods,
Waiting to be gifted with that goldpan flash
Which secures the sure plan and full completion
In truth, right- thinkers,
The inspiration notion is absurd:
That falling pieces should jigsaw together
Mid-air, their acrobatics with a lexicographer’s precision
Deny all natural law.
Yet that’s our hope.
Even the acorn
Will not release its reticence,
The embryonic ice white shoot
Without the outward urging of the sun.
And this is a cold morning.

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