nada, zip, zilch, goose egg

I am blocked.
Stuck for those singing, stinging
Words I swing toward you

I’ve said every word
I know and made up some for extra laughs.

I got Nothing.
My teacher, Rosemerry, whispers
‘Look within for the muse, not without.’
Still nothing.

I stare at the too blue December sky.
So blue it hurts.
I stand at banks of a dry sandriver
Thistles crunching.

Today, just
Bright white snow geese flow across.
frosting streamers melting into azure.

From 2000 feet the white bodies call down,
“Cold. Cold. Cold.”

“Tell me something new, Goose Clan,
Can you smell changes in the wind?”

“Snow. Snow. Snow!”

I scream at them,

Then, I
Wonder if they were predicting or praying.

I can see all the way to Montana today.
Black roiling waves
Easing east.

I got nothing.


  1. it occurs to me reading your poem that that nothing is exactly what we want. how curious to fill it in with the expectation that we or the world will produce something! I do this all the time! Beautiful insight you give me. And then that glorious switcheroo from prediction to prayer, yummmmm.

  2. hooray for the snow geese. crazy beautiful birds. oh I also saw a PUFFIN at the reservoir; many years ago. and always the bright as shades blue sky… colorado sky we are blessed. gloomy skies provoke too much endless rehashing of me!.. thank you for getting me out of the claustrophobic indoor self

  3. Even from naught, for the reader you produce imagery, powerful words–one equals many–and take us outdoors without moving. Appreciatively! (I recall that dashes simply don’t work but that’s all I have)

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