morning pages have me spewing verse like vomit
taste of last night’s one-buck chardonnay
knocked back at Leisure World
where ping pong power plays rule the day
and recreation-rich geriatrics rejuvenate
but wait, I digress …
which brings no distress,
for morning pages let me listen to the words
that wake me from my artist’s block
wired and withdrawing from my cowardice
this I write and race the clock
my morning pages spell the stages of an affair
with the self surrendering to self-repair
