Brain Fuzz

Bacteria spawning in my mind, formulates an anchor.  I allow it to stay, because I think that dark green moss belongs on my drowning rock of a head.  One day perhaps I will stop being cranky and take my rock out of the dark depths of the soured river.  I may choose to lay it in the sun.  The bacteria’s mossy crown will dry out and fall off.  My ideas could then glisten in the sun like veins of lost gold.  I am afraid of how beautiful it might be.  I want and don’t want people to see it.  I sit on the shore and ponder, “to pull a lodged stone out of a river is most difficult only in the beginning.”  Bending down, I wrap my fingers around my brain, and pull.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert



Haiku for the Weary Writer

Timely writing,

readers sift, through stories,

hungry for more.

Ideas are like ore,

extracted from solid rock,

Mine of Mind.

Fear and Doubt,

Are sold, by the idle.

I will never invest.

One million words,

is said to make a writer,

words are steps.

My little black book,

Red pen captures idea,

gold, in my pocket.

Reader. Listener.

Silent exchange of story,

a mind grows.

Writing. Cooking.

Practice.  Ingredients.

Perfection takes time.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert


Quill! Shed Now, Your Dust!

Book being born,

time and work yield,

story in stone.

In ten years, will I care?

I whisper my soft reply,

after the angry shouts,

pull away from my red ears,

like falling ocean tide,

after a storm.

In ten years, will I care?

Writing on pause.  For what?

Unloved tasks, given the affection,

of my bursting mind?

Writing on pause. For what?

Pending approval for one whimsical

sentence, scratched on an invisible wall?

Writing on pause.  For what?

Kids and Family?  Yes.  That, is a welcomed pause.

Writing on pause. For what?

Painted pixels, dancing and dying,

within a pre-written tale?

Yet, in a precious moment,

I escape,

My mind, soon spills upon a

blank page!

I pick up, shallow and broken


my fingers dance life,

into their hungry tale!

I smile,

because the torment of stuggle,

now is upon them.

Writing, un-paused.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert