Stasis

Because I cannot write

Neither hold a pen

or a thought,

pictures, I give you.

A flash of brief, fleeting moments

behind a postcard view

fill the area of what used to be

a schmaltzy brew of prose

Pictures

sun painted images

where I wear a face

amidst an ashen cloud

wearing a face but

never a smile.

Looking away,

no words,

or prose,

Not a line,

not while I am here.

September 2007

(I was rummaging through my old blog when I came upon this entry written exactly 3 years ago. I was probably in Brunei for 2 months when I wrote this and as I was new in this foreign country I was in a state of indescribable depression. Of course it was homesickness)