I don’t believe in writer’s block
What taunts me there, on the stark white page
Is the sun itself, or a distant ray
And nothing my pen can't unlock.
Daniel Boone never got lost, per se
But he'd been a mite confused
His well-laid paths disabused
(Sometimes for several days).
Can mental blocks render writers obtuse
And it's truly an unavoidable thing?
Then explain to me, please, one Stephen King
And tell me it's not just an excuse.
© Bryan Denson, December 5, 2016