Clean my desk.
Look out the window forever…
Get up in the morning and brush my hair. Just brush my hair.
Get up in the morning and then go back to sleep, pull her close to me,
fall down into the warm sea of her breath. It’s true,
it is that deep…
Listen to the radio, any station and weep at the miracle of language,
drink my tea, and agree with it all…
Buy an alarm clock that wakes me up…
Quit writing, stop forever, lay down on the floor,
make amends for all the bad words and wrong words I have ever written,
burn something, weep, apologize to the dawn sky
because you have misused it so…
Kiss myself good-bye, as I go to work.
Change the way I feel about emptiness.
Remember what I was going to say.
Say strange and beautiful things to anyone, especially when they aren’t listening…
Paint my mind golden.
Find some paint that doesn’t peel off the mind.
Have fun, have lots and lots of fun, have the kind of fun that incites riots of envy and panics of desperation. Have so much fun that I get shot down like a balloon,
Be a Love Terrorist. Send love bombs in the mail, put love in cars, buses, in empty bottles of Sprite left behind Jon’s market on Vermont. Blow up everyone I see with a love bomb. Ka-Boom! There, you’re loved.
Talk positive to myself. Tell myself it’s all okay.
Convince myself that everything is fine.
Wait until tomorrow to really get started.
Begin when I finally get an idea.
Jump in when I find the confidence…
—-Steve Abee
