POEM IS WAITING FOR ME

POEM IS WAITING FOR ME

poem
is waiting for me

but I am not there
pen and
paper crying out

but no words, no letters,
nothing there
on the page
to remain
    unread

to add nothing,
exactly nothing

maybe
I should tell the poem
to switch itself
to go
automatic pilot

where I
feel that
there is nothing
to say, 
   no place to
start

poem can write itself
fill the page with
brilliance or
nonsense
whatever it feels
on the whim
of the moment
whatever it
    absolutely has
to say
   express from
its core, its heart,
plunder from the depths

find
   a truth to explore
simply
fill the page with

add
   its piece

to all that has
      been written, revered
and so much talked about