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how to write a poem

pace the kitchen
panning for gold
then check the fridge again:
nope,
still nothing.

nudge between the curtains
peer down the deserted road
a nod to the streetlamp

no creature knows soul
like a streetlamp

check the fridge again.

I want something done before the sun is up
before the flickering
yellow lamp light in my little room
becomes drenched
in the light of day

the light of 7
billion

they can't all be famous
they can't all be saved
they can't all
have every day to themselves
but
can I?

I check the fridge again:
still nothing
Dissonant Dissonant 18-21, M 1 Response Jan 27

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Literally every day of my life. I swear.

I'm pretty sure this is the official writing process.

I don't know.. my process isn't glamorous, but against the word of many a great writer, it seems to be working for me.