Midweek I gained the perfect idea for revving up this sleeping blog—but within a few hours, distractions erased any beginning phrases and paragraphs. I even weeded out the back garden, cleared out dead sabers of sleeping irises, all in the hopes of charging up a new idea, a casual commentary for development.
The blank page stares back: a grass field frosted over, trapped in a limbo, a paralysis of expectation.
What do the following items have in common?
• lit match / unlit match
• crumbs of bread loaf
• radio static
• quoted line from Chaucer, stripped from a notebook
• slow ache along the lower back
• open book
• closed book
• unread newspaper
• hands cusped near your face
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