One-Track Muse

For what it’s worth, I try to mix it up.
Each night I tell myself, Try something new!
Exciting! Different! Overflow thy cup!
Don’t settle for another lame haiku.

That’s where I start, but soon enough I think,
Haiku is the epitome of art,
Encapsulating eons in a blink,
Complete repasts compressed into a fart.

As midnight’s deadline looms, my standards fall
To heights so low no acrophobe would swoon.
No rhyme too hackneyed; if it rhymes at all
One knows it’s just to partner “June” with “moon.”
Whenever writer’s block descends like that
…the only “muse” I hear come from the cat.


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