The Right Block

There are times when I have to force myself

Not to taste the sound of abandoned thoughts. 

Distractions that distort creative wealth

Sometimes keep newness from changing to rot.

I remember when I was able to 

Keep the words changing and stable because

Bumps that come with the world were ones I knew.

I wish the poem was done when I was,

And not after my fingers squirmed to find

Delete, eraser, the ability

To seek solace while striking through my 

Careful meaning etched with a pen that sees.

I am counting all the lines I wrote in, 

Hoping I can find an answer within.