Drano or The Poet's Friend

            1.

The sink’s unplugged.
the pipe’s unstopped,
the water’s flowing.

Words, too, 

like a mountain stream 
in Spring.

I hear boulders knock.

Words I have never known
swarm like bees about me, 

an abundance
I have never known. 

2.

Suddenly, I’ve become a clown:
painted face, 
red bulb for a nose.

each shoe large enough 
for a boat. 

Just one could surely float me.

I’m back in a circus world,
once again feel free: 
a clown 
overfull of laughter, 
a sort of “wannabe.”

I am once again happy and sad: 

Knowing there is something 
to be said, 
something strong I feel.

I get up and turn on the light.
I sit at my computer 
and await the poem.