The Words
When the world is too much with me, the words are the first to go. The words do not come. Like a pet, they slink into the corner, ears flat. They think I don’t notice when they lean forward as my breathing changes.
“I shall not perform to prove that you are literate. You have nothing new to say. We will not enable you.”
Fine.
Next time you want me, I’ll keep my thoughts as feeling. No narration.
The rest— I’ll store in the body.
Shiver. Ache. Sweat.
And the world is still too much with me. Unlabeled, unnamed, unchallenged and unshared. It stays private and unexamined. Maybe that’s good for a time.
About johndiestler
Retired community college professor of graphic design, multimedia and photography, and chair of the fine arts and media department.
A Work Progressing 
Writer’s Block
The Words
When the world is too much with me, the words are the first to go. The words do not come. Like a pet, they slink into the corner, ears flat. They think I don’t notice when they lean forward as my breathing changes.
“I shall not perform to prove that you are literate. You have nothing new to say. We will not enable you.”
Fine.
Next time you want me, I’ll keep my thoughts as feeling. No narration.
The rest— I’ll store in the body.
Shiver. Ache. Sweat.
And the world is still too much with me. Unlabeled, unnamed, unchallenged and unshared. It stays private and unexamined. Maybe that’s good for a time.
Share this:
About johndiestler
Retired community college professor of graphic design, multimedia and photography, and chair of the fine arts and media department.