I was in the garden
thinking hard n’
startin’
to feel words were dumb
grass was grass, the sun, the sun
(creatively blocked, to use the jargon)

suddenly I’m dry flow
a vacant little shit show
a no go kinda poet
a kid with a trumpet
who blows and pumps it
but it just sounds bad and he has to dump it

I know it’s absurd
all because I saw some herbs
in a rotten ol’ planter start to emerge
yeah! I felt so alive
looking at chives
but the words I wanted wouldn’t arrive

a sign I should quit
stop for a bit
put the pen down, be done with it
finally fuck this
spike the haikus, kill the couplets
cut the chives, make some omelettes