Uninspired

Sometimes when the poetic portion

of my brain is numb 

I just start a sentence and see 

what falls out of it. 

I put words together like refrigerator magnets: 

"Small 

Ants 

Drink 

Swirling 

Toilet 

Skin"

no, no, no...

"Small 

Toilets

Skin

Ants 

Drinking 

Swirl?"

Oh, give it up. 

Now I've tipped my first line over

tapping the bottom

hoping something will come out.

and sometimes...

if I'm lucky... 

like a star unstuck from 

the dark bowels of space, an idea

unbound by the laws of creative 

physics illuminates

the dark night of a passionless poem

and a radiant beam of 

bright and unabashed 

crap

dribbles forth.