Writer's Block

Like a stroppy teenager, one blank page defies

my intention to write down words:

an empty mind and empty paper.

Silence, blank, void – until I listen with intent

and hear my train trundle and rumble South.

I let a pen leak a few words

and some thing’s down there now.

I learned the duties of a clown from Andrew:

at home in a world of nonsense,

turning up voltage again and again;

not perfectly perfect but urging

inclusion; connecting the hearts of some people

through smiles – with spaces between all their talking and words,

where, truly, a mystery lies.

Pass the Buck

Happiness seems

to COME out from

a small centre

- in a ray – a

SHOW of teeth, but

can be also

rude or vulgar,

expressing as

an anima

(Carl Jung would say).

Happy people

feel an inner

RUSH and Andrew

learned, this year, to

swear (in his own

way) intense, org-

asmic splurging

four letter words

like in a cough

or sneeze, a lit-

tle BRAY

     ‘if you

can’t find a way

to sing or sway,

BUCK yourself up,

make a noise, play

and dance today,

I’ll shout and spray,

and cry, exclaim’

he’ll say

    ‘Buck off!’