Sonnet 51 'When I Feel Lonely and I Can Write Naught'

When I feel lonely and I can write naught, I sit down and I just begin to write… Tea-water I’ve put on boils in the pot And I can’t ‘get there’, not really… not quite… And so, I fill the air with empty words, Reflecting all the emptiness I feel. I really do not think that I am bored… Sometimes I endlessly watch endless reels Of tripe – sometimes the tripe is really good! I’ll never eat an okra or chitlins Those never seemed to me, to be my food But I like chicharrones, and wheat-middlings This weary tale must now come to an end, Your grace, I beg, for making your ears bend!