I am really stuck. My mind, a BLANK. WHERE normally images flow, instead, nothing. Absurdity abounds and the images clash, like trying to hang fish in the SOUTH or color in a dresser. It’s a chorus where no one sings in the same key, no perfect PITCH to be found.

Georg’ann

Woke in the night, turning
from side to side. Image
of a fish out of water flopping.
Steadied myself with attempt
to craft a gatha. Zen exercise
combining poetry and meditation.
Within wakefulness SPLIT came.
Not useful then. Held for morning.
No TOPIC ever in mind to begin.
Hit or strike, whatever the PITCH.
You always there to catch.

Heather