This one's for the poets out there.
How do you feel when you haven't written a poem (or you haven't written the poem you've wanted to write) in what seems like a long time?
I feel like I've been surviving on Diet Coke, chewy granola bars, sugar-free altoids, and benedryl, and spending all of my time locked in tiny rooms with overzealous air conditioning.
I mean, yesterday they kept testing this speaker system in the library, and Jay and I were about ready to go and beast somebody. And normally we would've just laughed.
I can calm down. Everything will get done. I will get time to write, without interruptions, before 2010. The poem will come out. Right?
So how do you feel when your poem machine's on the fritz, and the repair man ain't available until next Tuesday?