Daze
by Sandi Stromberg



Sunlight slices through veined
cobwebs. The pen lies barren.
Acedia rules the garden. Tulips
swan their inquisitive necks—
why this vase? This table? This
room? If inspiration is an under-
ground rivulet, give me
a forked stick,
let it vibrate.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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