A Year Without Poetry

I told myself, Write, and I put
the pen down. Told myself,
Write, and made a phone call.

They say you have to write,
just write, and write again, and
I don't know if they're right,

but I know I have not been. If
this has been a year without
poetry, it was not, I think, a

year without theory, a breadth
of time to be forgot. But a year
without verses must surely have

been recorded somewhere, even
an unseen somewhere; it was just
not so readily edited, spaced, paced,

or considered as it slipped by.