the next day

what do you
expect?
gold everyday?
a wise
kernel of truth
in every
sparse poem.
it doesn't work
that way.
sometimes
the well is dry.
you've got
nothing.
the cupboard
is bare expect
for these old
dusty
clichés. sorry
about that,
but sometimes
life gets in
the way. try me
again tomorrow.
or the next
day. maybe then
i'll have something
more to say.
maybe not.
we'll see.