Where do writers get their ideas from?
All the world wants to know!
Do they sneak off to times gone
while we’re sleeping
and watch the goings on as a show?
Do they skip back and forth,
bartering in many different tongues?
Do they bundle old tales and morph them
into diverse, interlocking shapes
and hope the originals won’t see them hung?
Perhaps they come in dreams
drifting down rivers and across channels.
Do they filter onto pages in reams,
spider-fast ink overtaking the pores,
to at last become a slab of legible panels?
Treeshallow Musings 