Every day I choose
between poetry and dishes,
poetry and scooping the cat pan,
poetry and devouring the latest Franzen,
poetry and the Sunday morning crossword.

I ask myself:
Will I sit down to write, or run out to do the shopping?
Will I get up early for work, or stay up late composing verse?
The answer is always different than it was, once,
when it was always the same.

Each day I make the choice to leave my pencil at rest,
and wear the print off my keyboard typing inanities...
where I am, who I'm with, the color of the shirt I want to buy...
And the decision to atrophy gets easier and easier every passing day.

11/10/2010

Author's Note: Interesting that my artistic output has slowed to a trickle since the advent of social media.

Posted on 11/11/2010
Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips