The poet should never be without a notepad. The note pad is an artery. You feel it beating. You’re heart quickens each time you pick up the pen and write. Electrocardiograph lines spread across the monitor. You are healthy, alive and well.
In fact you feel so healthy today that you don’t need to write so impulsively. You alight on an idea but this time you decide that you’ll write it later when you get home or when you are less busy. When you are less busy you are relaxing. Any inkling of an idea has gone. You get an itch though, a new itch, open skin. Multiply this. Ideas are fast and fleeting things. The itch becomes an open cut. This is the beginning of the end. It’s critical. Carry a notepad.