i have nothing left to give said the muse
disconcerting news that forces my writer’s imagination
to find release in solitary thinking
in fantasies
dreams
words that propel me into ian’s blue hawaiian spiral wings
send me soaring over
red hot molten rock that burns the trees
winding through lush green valleys
forests that climb up steep cliffs where ropes
of sugar sweet white fizz cascade down
until my brain whirls like an airfoil
pours out novel words
new lines
to paint a story
like the goddess of fire gushes passion from her pit
and coats the earth’s crust in black
and silver
mahalo pele
Mina Witteman 