lost in thought on the commode
Kahlua in your morning coffee
thinking about your inspirations
late for work
and feeling sorry for yourself.
folding paper, black and brown, and gray
shapes of shadows underneath the trees
origami stars come tumbling down like leaves
on a midnight walk,
a chance passed by,
the sound of something hoped for, underfoot.
but sorrow is inspiring too
and artists drink and dream,
it's a vocation.
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