For Lance Sheridan
(who knows his muse well)
The muse wants what it wants.
I might want to just lay some things to rest forever,
in a cemetery of kindness where I can leave flowers but once a year.
She roams my graveyard of lost loves and takes pictures of headstones;
places them, like napkins next to my dinner plate.
The muse digs through my attic discovering things,
she finds interesting and hauls them downstairs.
Makes me open my eyes and look again at what and who I attempted to lose:
Things buried since 2012 or since January 12th in a few literal graves.
I guess the muse knows best, if I should bathe a poem in tears or hope.
In any case, she has the first and last word of whatever gets written here.
Ask anyone who knows the muse…autonomous, surprising, playful beguiling.
Ask them if they ever tried to say “No,” to her and were able to sign a finished painting?
Ask them if they ever said, “Not now” to her …
and could remember that thought she put in their heads,
at just the wrong moment, so they never wrote it down?
The muse is no quitter and if you are one…she will not come back. That’s that!!.
She is a winner and if she takes your hand in hers, you will be too.
Accept her, trust her and love her; every artist of every art, needs her close by.
I love my muse and she knows it.. How do I know she does?
Well, when I am softly moaning about no longer being a poet,
not having one new thought I want to say, she shakes me awake
with the first rays of the morning sun and…
I just know I will finish a poem that day.
June 8th 2020