the first time around
he imagined that he could work ahead
stockpile a few ideas
hoard a piece or two in development
build in a cushion for the short days
but he found that those poems
dried up
blew away
turned to rot
like manna kept for the next day
as long as he kept peeling off the poem
from the top of the stack
the next one would rise right up
to take its place
the top acting as a stopper
for the flow rising up from below
yet removed, it allowed creativity
to bubble forth
from somewhere deep inside
Posted in: creativity, NaPoWriMo