In my apartment there are
four or five
unfinished paintings, leaning against
blank walls
Also, three shoe boxes of photographs
random and unedited
needing mounting
Stacks of blank CDs wait
for
music to be added,
labeled and, perhaps
mailed
There is a also a novel
about a woman I once knew
in a city I previously lived in
She saw the draft, but
I never showed her the ending