Process, you ask. How do you create a poem? Here’s one way. Pathetic when you think about it.
The
Poet’s Nightmare
I wake up in a
drenching sweat
for want of a word
for a douche bag.
No, not some low
life idiot,
the thing
that hung once
in the bathroom
that smelled of lavender
where stockings dripped
from the shower rod
and steam misted
the pink flamingo decals
on the mirror.
I need the word that
will not come
with consuming urgency.
It has a place
in a line of verse
spelling itself out
in hand carved wooden
Gothic print blocks
on old linen paper.
A hundred times
it seems
that it is almost there
ready to fall into
its urgent place.
And vanishes.
—Patrick Murfin
January 22, 2015
3:43 am
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