the writin’ life in a nutshell

I wake up in the middle of the night

with pleasin’ comfort inside

there is no one and no evil around

only a fulgurant screen

of my laptop

my books scattered on too many shelves

in two countries, not yet

fully found

although I anticipate

every detail inside of them

the writer’s struggle over the centuries

wars with countries and with ourselves

drinkin’ problems, sheddin’ light

on adulterous husbands and wives

murder cases, imaginable worlds

escapes from prisons and all sorts

of unsolved cases

on the road, on railroad tracks

on cliffs and runnin’ paths

for what the writer writes must be backed up

by a right inspiration for all of this life

it still lures me toward itself

as if it gently remindin’ me

that this is the comfort I always yearn to feel

despite too many awkward positions

leadin’ me there

yet I know that in the end

I am attracted to the light of the banker’s lamp like an insect

because that’s my writin’ beacon

thanks to which I always feel

at home

and I would never want to trade it for heaven

as long as I can feel the blood pulsin’ in my veins

because writin’ from the guts has always been

my main target on earth

*

September 2022

***

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