I have a "poemlet" a found poem in my journal for today's part of the exercise. But I feel as if all my writer friends have been drinking at the fountain of the muses and I am left with only sour milk or flat soda with crumbs at the bottom of the glass. Here is today's work.
Never mind that the blind man sings
tales of heroics in lands he will never see.
My oracle fires have been extinguished
and I see but cannot speak.