Nomad Writer

My ideas–
Scattered red beams
Strobing the black clouds
Of my shadowed conscious
Glimpses of a thought
Flicker here and there
Littered fragments
The collective of themes
Spread over the next few days
Unseen
Not yet known
Skirting my mind’s rocky edge

I sit at the table
Amidst torn papers
Scrunched balls
Of writerly frustration
But I keep writing
Keep searching
For that constant
Singular stream
Of inspiration