Some days, the little things stand out
in stark relief to the barren landscape,
the goanna in the grass, the new pool
just constructed on the back lawn,
the jazz singer who changes the words
of the song so he's singing just to me.
Some days, my fingers feel like they can't
move fast enough for my thoughts
and the browser won't open quick enough
and the images run over each other into a web
I must untangle and explore before I show it.
Other days, the blinking cursor taunts me
and the bed whispers my name like a promise
and I grow frustrated, because I know
I have ideas and images and beautiful things
swirling in my brain, half-baked, almost ready,
but they need a little more time to solidify
and sweeten before I can offer them up.
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