On the road.
Writer’s workshop on the road.
Stop only for new material.
Write the rest of the time.
And read.
Read out loud, to each other.
But only stop for new material.
Fidgeting with my face.
Why would I do that?
Holding up my head,
Holding it up with my hands…
Why not let it rest?
Why would I do that?
Feeling out of place.
Running out of time.
Thinking of words that rhyme.
Isn’t that a good thing?
Resting on my fist, and staring at this.
Holding my face, trying to retrace…
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