Another crappy poem for NaPoWriMo.I'm finding this whole practice getting stale and I'm not loving any of the poetry.A new poem each day is a lot for someone, who might write one or two poems a month.
It has kept my mind fresh during the day though. Maybe this good for something.
_______________________
It all starts with the page and the stage, the tools of our trade.
The most intimidating and friendly confines we know.
With angels watching over us
The devils whispering in our ears.
Blank lines like the faces back at us.
Can't leave the words hollow with a pressence and pressence without the writing.
Balancing the plates to the table is the approach and it must be delivered.
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